Spun
by sidewalk serfer girl
Summary: A rather unapologetic letter from the former prince of the Southern Isles is the catalyst for a life-changing meeting between Elsa and the hot-blooded miscreant who tried to steal her crown. Elsa x Hans.
1. Prologue

Hi,

I'm not entirely sure what to write here as an introduction to this story. I've decided to do a little venturing outside of the box by writing outside of the anime fandom I've become so comfortable in. I've never written anything with fantasy elements before, but I wanted to challenge myself, and I hope it will result in something you'll enjoy.

When Anna warned Hans that he was no match for Elsa, I thought, "Pfft! He's the _perfect_ match for Elsa. Just not the kind of match Anna had in mind when she said it.

Thanks so very much for reading. :)

ssg.x.

**Prologue**

There's method in my madness  
There's no logic in your sadness  
You don't gain a single thing from misery  
Take it from me

You've got it all  
You lost your mind in the sound  
There's so much more  
You can reclaim your crown  
You're in control  
Rid of the monsters inside your head  
Put all your faults to bed  
You can be king again

**oooOOOooo**

Royal Highness, Queen Elsa of Arendelle,

In response to your letter (your final, I hope), let me be perfectly clear; there will be no apologies from me, nor do I seek your forgiveness. I'm sure my family has already taken it upon themselves to apologize for my many sins, or what they perceive to be my many sins.

It is still unclear whether my title as a Prince of the Southern Isles, and the duties and privileges that go along with that title, have been stripped permanently, or if they've merely been suspended. A kingdom is no better than its king, they say. Even as the thirteenth son, even with the distance between myself and the throne being so vast, I'm still a representative of His Majesty the King. You can be sure that I have, and will continue to be punished for my misdeeds for as long as my father and his subjects see fit, and in the manner of the kingdom's choosing.

You will receive no apologies or excuses for my actions, Your Highness. My fate is now bound to my father, his law, his subjects. But my words, my thoughts, the blood in my veins and the heart that rules it, remain my own. I am not sorry for making an attempt on your throne, and you can be sure I never will be. As a ruler, you shouldn't be so naive to think that wars will not be fought, whether it is between armies of thousands, or armies of one. My only regret is that my arrogance got the better of me. The true hero to my villainy was my own hubris.

Due to its nature, this letter may never find its way to you. But, thankfully, that is no longer of any significance to me. Whether it reaches your hands or not, as far as I'm concerned, it has served its purpose. While it is highly unlikely that I will ever be a free man in the way I always wished I would be one day, I now consider myself to be one in at least one respect.

Yours,

Formerly Prince Hans of the Southern Isles

P.S. Bite me.

* * *

Lyrics quoted above are from Lauren Aquilina's "King".


	2. Something Human

So,

A have a question for you - Do you prefer shorter chapters frequently or longer chapters not-quite-so frequently?

I hope you're well, and thanks so much for reading!

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 2  
**SOMETHING HUMAN

It was a gorgeous spring day in Arendelle. The sun was out and the fresh air was deliciously revitalizing, as evidenced by the number of townspeople bustling in and out of the village square so early on a Sunday morning. It was a wonderful thing to see, but Elsa couldn't help but feel a sad little twinge in her heart. The kingdom was clearly trying to make up for lost time after the endless winter she'd inadvertently set off before abandoning her subjects just a few short months ago.

Anna herself had just returned from a walk with Kristoff through the woods and along the perimeter of the fjord. She'd left a trail of muddy footprints throughout the castle as she ran from room to room, excitedly calling out Elsa's name. When Anna had burst through her chamber doors, Elsa couldn't help but notice the look of dismay on her sister's face.

"Geez, Elsa. Haven't you left your room _at all_ today?"

Elsa shrugged her shoulders and quickly tried to hide the contents of her hands in the skirt folds of the teal dress she was wearing. Elsa wasn't quick enough for Anna, though, who swooped past her, startling her and causing the crumpled up letter she'd been trying to hide to fall to the floor.

There was a long, silent pause between the two sisters before they both dove for the balled up piece of paper at the same time. Their skulls clunked together dully, stunning Elsa just long enough for Anna to scoop up the letter. She crossed the room and flopped down on Elsa's bed, opening up the letter and squinting to try to read it through all the crags and creases.

"He didn't," Anna gasped.

"He did."

"He _didn't_!"

"He _did_."

"He di-"

"Anna, stop it!" Elsa laughed, picking up a book she had been trying to read earlier in an effort to get her mind off of –

"'Bite me'?!" Anna laughed in utter disbelief, hanging backwards over the side of her sister's bed, rereading the letter, albeit upside-down this time. "Good to know he's using his punishment as a time for self-reflection and personal growth."

Elsa tersely turned a page in her book, "What did you expect? He's an arrogant, manipulative sociopath."

"The way this letter reads, the only thing that's done any growing is the size of his head," Anna replied, wryly, crushing the letter between her hands.

Elsa glanced at her sister over the top of her book. Anna truly was something. That punch in the jaw she served Hans must have been incredibly cathartic. There were some days, like today for instance, when she would actually be able to crack a joke or two about her faux fiancé. Whenever Elsa thought about Hans and what he almost got away with, however, nothing within inches of her fingers was guaranteed any safety from the freeze. Every day Elsa was getting better and better at keeping her powers from being ruled solely by her emotions. Rather, her powers had become an extension of them, the same way a paintbrush would act as an extension of an artist's emotions. And, like an artist, Elsa had learned how to keep her paint, as it were, on the canvas.

Yes, Elsa was well on her way to becoming the quintessential poster girl for self-control.

"Elsa."

"Hm?"

"You're snowing."

Except when it came to thoughts of Hans.

Elsa looked up. Sure enough, a light snow had settled on the crown of her head. Elsa sighed and rolled her eyes, looking embarrassed. Anna smiled warmly at her as she stood up from the bed. Elsa put down her book and turned to look at her reflection in the vanity's mirror, frowning. Anna approached her and started dusting the snowflakes off the top of her platinum-haired head and shoulders.

"Thanks," Elsa said sheepishly.

"If it's bothering you so much, why haven't you thrown it out yet?" Anna asked, her tone just a little too reproachful for her taste just then. Elsa bristled noticeably. Anna's eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Elsa. It's just that I hate that he's still on your mind. It's been beautiful outside, the townspeople have been asking about you, and the staff – they worry about you. But it's like that man's still got you locked up in a cell."

Suddenly distracted, Anna's eyes widened and she bounded across the room towards the windows. "A cell with _fabulous_ new drapes! When did you get these? Do I get new drapes, too?" she asked eagerly, grabbing a panel of the lightly-patterned champagne curtains and wrapping herself up in it.

Elsa giggled. Anna did, too. She approached Elsa and held Hans' letter out to her. Elsa took it and began trying to smooth it out against her lap, hoping it would still be legible after being crumpled up for the second time that day, though still not entirely sure why she cared so much. She hesitated.

"Anna, if it means so much to you, I'll get rid of —" she began carefully.

Anna smiled, wrapping her arms around her sister and meeting her bright blue eyes in the mirror. "No, Elsa. You keep it. Just…don't keep your reasons to yourself for too long, okay?"

Elsa nodded, "Promise."

"Good," Anna replied, satisfied that Elsa was telling her the truth. She straightened up and flexed her fingers, cracking a few knuckles. "If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen. The cooks are going to show me how to bake bread today."

"Call me if you need me to put any fires out," Elsa replied drolly.

"Har har," Anna sniffed before flouncing out of the room and closing the doors behind her.

Alone again, Elsa reread the letter for the thousandth time.

Why _was_ she keeping it?

Hans was a jerk. More than a jerk - a malevolent, soulless monster who had almost succeeded in killing both Elsa and her beloved sister. But there was something in that letter that had been eating away at her. Buried deep in all that arrogance and feigned apathy was something human.

More than human.

Something like… herself.

_While it's highly unlikely that I will ever be a free man in the way I always wished I would be one day, I now consider myself to be one in at least one respect._

"A free man…" Elsa murmured. "A free man in the way I always wished I would be one day."

Whatever could that mean?


	3. The Sins of One

So,

Is it spring where you are yet? I need March to pick a season and stick with it. Now THIS has been an eternal winter.

Hope you're warm and well. :)

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 3  
**THE SINS OF ONE

Obsessing over Hans' letter had made it more and more difficult to concentrate on what turned out to be a particularly gruelling day social-wise. And, unfortunately, that afternoon there just weren't enough Annas to pick up Elsa's slack.

Certain wings of the palace had been opened for tours on Sundays for some time now. Usually Elsa was more than happy to do the whole meet and greet thing, especially when Anna was around to take some of the pressure off her. Anna was so much better with people than she was, and she was a natural with children, probably because in so many ways she was still a child herself. She'd organize floor games and singing circles, leaving the adults to Elsa. She tried her best to remain engaged, but couldn't stop herself from wondering what each subject's personal struggles were during the eternal winter. She imagined their children shivering and starving under thin blankets, husbands unable to work, wives trying to pull a decent meal together with whatever scraps were left in their cupboards.

Okay, maybe the grim pictures she painted were a little over-the-top, but she knew she had royally messed up (no pun intended), and meeting people during these tours could often still be a painful reminder of that.

Hans crept into her thoughts. She'd been thinking so much about that letter of his that it couldn't be helped. For all his treachery, Hans _had_ made sure the people of Arendelle were well taken care of during the winter. Yes, it was all part of his slimy plan to win the people's affection, but a small part of her had to grudgingly admit that she was glad he had put real effort into keeping the citizens from freezing to death, even if nothing else about him was real. He'd pulled the wool over their eyes, but the wool had kept them warm. That's what mattered.

Elsa decided to turn in early that night. Gerda, as was her way, fussed and fretted that she might be coming down with something. To make Gerda happy, Elsa drank the extra cup of tea she had insisted she have. She brought extra blankets to her private chambers in case she felt cold, which Elsa couldn't help but find funny. Elsa didn't realize quite how tired she was until her head hit the pillow. Before leaving the room, Gerda touched her forehead to check for a fever one last time. Elsa, eyes still closed, smiled.

"Thank you, Gerda," she said softly.

"You're most welcome, Your Highness." she replied kindly, her hand brushing her cheek lightly, affectionately.

The door was still ajar when Kai approached Gerda in the hallway.

"How is the queen? I was told she retired early. Is she alright?"

"I'm wondering that myself. I felt silly for thinking it, but can she catch cold? Can she come down with a fever? I'm trying to remember if she's ever been ill. No matter. I'm going to insist to her that she let us call in a doctor to have a look at her. Queen or no queen, I won't take 'no' for an answer."

Elsa brought a fist to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Poor Gerda. Always so worried.

"To be safe, we should keep an eye on her," Kai agreed. "During the open house today there was talk of a rather devastating outbreak of influenza across the Southern Isles. So many merchants and dignitaries have been in and out of the city over the past couple of weeks. Who knows what they might have brought with them."

Elsa's eyes opened. She bit her lip. _God, no._ The last thing Arendelle needed after everything it had been through recently was an influenza outbreak.

"Now here's something for you - rumour has it that snake Prince Hans isn't long for this world. He's been sequestered in a chamber in the palace for weeks now," Kai whispered.

"I hate to say it, but it's the least he deserves," Gerda replied. "God may strike me down for saying so, but that's just how I feel. When I think of how close we came to losing her Highness and the Princess…"

Gerda pulled the chamber door closed, plunging Elsa into darkness. She stared wide-eyed at the canopy above her bed, still gnawing at her bottom lip.

_Hans is dying?_

But that doesn't make sense, she thought. The letter mentioned nothing about an illness. She ran through it again in her head, having read it so many times that it was almost committed entirely to memory now.

_Okay, this is silly. It's nothing more than a rumour. If he was dying, the last thing he'd be doing is writing a letter to me of all people._

And if it wasn't a rumour, if he _was_ dying, so what? Like Gerda said – it was the least the man deserved.

Elsa closed her eyes again and lay quietly for a few minutes, but sleep remained just out of her reach. She pulled her pillow over her head and pressed either side of it against her ears, but it didn't do a thing to silence the voices.

One voice was louder than all the others.

_Don't be the monster they fear you are._

She wanted to forget he ever existed, but, much to her chagrin, Hans' words had stayed with her long after he and any threats he posed to the throne were gone. There was no doubt in her mind that he was merely playing a part when he'd said what he said. Every word out of his mouth had been a lie, after all. But how could he have predicted that those particular words would resonate so strongly with her? How could he read her so perfectly in those frenzied moments? Did he draw from personal experience, or was he just _that_ good at improvising?

Hans was a murderous brute, but she didn't want him to die. She didn't want anyone to die. She decided she needed to find out how much of this "talk" Kai spoke of was fact and how much of it was fiction. The royal family of the Southern Isles didn't love its subjects any less than Elsa loved hers. If there was an outbreak, and there was something she could do to help them, she needed to step forward and do it.

She couldn't let many suffer for the sins of one.

Not again.


	4. Spectres of Death

So,

First off, thanks so much for the lovely reviews! I'm very grateful for them! And thank you also for answering the question I posed before the last chapter. Shorter, more frequent chapters it is!

Hope you're well! I also hope this is mostly typo-free. :)

Thanks so much for reading.

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 4  
**SPECTRES OF DEATH

Kristoff decided he loved Anna most when she was being incredibly stubborn. It showcased just about every one of her best qualities. She was clever, strong, loyal and funny. And beautiful, he remarked, as he watched her face flush and her beautiful eyes narrow angrily. He was sure he'd have preferred he wasn't the one on the other end of all that stubbornness just then, though.

"Traitor," she spat, nimbly climbing up the back of the coach that was to take Queen Elsa to the docks. Once on the imperial, she started swinging her sister's luggage over the side. Kristoff watched all three bags hit the ground for the fourth time in half an hour. Amused, he watched Anna grabbing one of the handles of Queen Elsa's trunk. It was clearly too heavy for her, but damned if she wasn't determined to get the thing to join the rest of her sister's things on the ground. When pulling the trunk wasn't getting her anywhere, she tried pushing it, then lifting it. Finally, she flopped down beside it, completely out of breath.

"Are you done?" Kristoff asked, smirking. Anna glared at him.

"You know, I thought for sure you'd be on my side."

Kristoff climbed up the back of the coach and sat down beside her. He tugged gently on one of her braids. She swatted his hand away. Kristoff leaned against the side of the trunk and sighed.

"There are sides?"

Anna rolled her eyes. "Of _course_ there are sides. Elsa wants me to be on board with her travelling to the Influenza Isles, aka Prince Homicide McManiac territory. _Alone_."

Kristoff shrugged his shoulders. "See? That's where you're wrong."

"Wrong about what?" Anna asked, looking hopeful.

"Wrong about Queen Elsa," Kristoff said. "She doesn't want you to be on board. She's going whether you like it or not."

"Oh, that's real nice," Anna muttered. Kristoff chuckled.

"Come on, Anna. She's a big girl who knows how to take care of herself. He Who Shall Not Be Named is locked up, and Queen Elsa has met Mommy and Daddy McManiac more than once since then."

"And what about the influenza?"

"You yourself told me the doctor called your sister a 'miracle of science'. He truly believes she can't contract influenza. Kai and Gerda both confirmed that they can't recall her falling ill once since _birth_. Whatever this thing is inside of her, it's protected her."

Kristoff leapt from the top of the coach, landing below on both feet with a thud. He reached his arms up for Anna. She turned her head, refusing to look at him.

"What if something happens to the ship?"

"She'll freeze the water."

"What if she gets kidnapped?"

"She'll freeze the kidnappers."

Anna looked at him through the corner of her eye. Kristoff smiled, gesturing to his open arms with his chin. She started to laugh, finally obliging him by leaping off the carriage and into his arms. He closed his eyes and held her tightly for one long, silent moment. She sighed happily.

"I'm just scared, you know. If something ever happened to her…"

"I know, Anna. I know."

"I wish I could go with her," she said softly.

"Anna, you're a strong, independent girl—"

"A strong, independent _woman_," Anna corrected.

"A strong, independent _woman_," Kristoff revised, stroking her hair, "but you can't bat influenza off with a guitar."

"I know," she said. She stood up straight and held her hands up in front of her. "Okay, fine. She can go."

Kristoff gave her a lopsided grin. "Yes. Because you clearly have a choice in the matter."

Anna ignored him. Once again, she climbed up the back of the coach and onto the imperial. For half a second he thought she was going to try to have another go at Queen Elsa's trunk, maybe try to heave it over the side and crush him with it. Instead, she dangled her legs over the side and casually leaned against the trunk, looking down at him with a cheeky little smile on her face.

God, he loved her.

Anna clapped her hands, drawing him out of his trance. "Hey! Don't just stand there staring, you big Scandinavian goon! Pass me a bag! My sister's got a boat to catch!"

**oooOOOOooo**

"What do you think about this one?"

Elsa slowly turned around in a silk cerulean day dress, the sixth dress she had put on that day in an attempt to find something suitable to wear for her first visit to the castle the royal family of the Southern Isles inhabited. She knew how to dress for funerals, but how did one dress for a viral outbreak? And if the King and Queen's youngest son was dying, she couldn't very well show up dressed like a spectre of death.

Gerda nodded her approval. "This one's lovely, Your Highness. But then I've liked all the dresses you've tried on."

"You're very kind, Gerda. But this is a very delicate situation. I need to look solemn, but I don't want to look like a funeral director. At the same time, I don't want to look too…festive," Elsa said, wringing her hands together, her nerves starting to get the better of her. "What about my hair? Does my hair look okay?" She picked up the front of her dress so as not to trip over the hem as she walked quickly to her full-length floor mirror. She slipped her feet into the shoes that waited for her there and leaned in close to her reflection to get a good look at her hair, which she'd done up herself in a pinned up waterfall braid, rather than have Gerda or one of the other girls do it. She smoothed some of the stray hairs, both real and imagined, back into place.

She wished she could have had Anna help her with all of this. No one could put her at ease the way her sister could. But Elsa would have had to tell her about Hans, and she wasn't quite sure how she would have reacted to the news. If it upset Anna, that was one thing. But if Anna's reaction was similar to Gerda's, Elsa couldn't predict how she'd feel about that.

Once Elsa was ready to go, Gerda draped a charcoal cape around her shoulders. As the older woman gave her a final once-over, Elsa dropped her chin, a frown pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Gerda…"

"Yes, Highness."

"Is it true about Prince Hans? Is he really dying?"

Gerda was visibly thrown by her question. She didn't ask Elsa how she'd come by the rumour, which Elsa was grateful for. She didn't want to have to admit to eavesdropping. She felt bad enough about it as it was.

"I'm afraid he might be," Gerda finally replied, seeming to choose her words carefully. "Word is that no one's been allowed to see him for weeks now. He was confined to a room in a separate wing of the palace from the rest of the royal family, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him since. They say his was one of the first cases diagnosed." She glanced up at Elsa, and Elsa got the distinct impression Gerda was trying to gauge her reaction to everything she had just said. Elsa felt herself wilting beneath the woman's gaze. She quickly changed the subject.

"These shoes," Elsa began awkwardly, lifting her skirts and wobbling on one foot to show Gerda the gold and navy embroidered mule that adorned the other. "Do they look okay?"

"You look beautiful, Queen Elsa. Regal."

"In that case," Elsa said, straightening up and throwing her shoulders back in an attempt to live up to Gerda's compliment. "I'm ready to go."


	5. They Come With Smiles

So,

More lovely reviews! Thank you so much! Sorry this chapter is a day or so late. It's a slightly longer one, so hopefully that sort of makes up for the delay.

As always, I hope you're well. :)

**CHAPTER 5**  
THEY COME WITH SMILES

Despite all the time Elsa spent trying to memorize the names and birth order of all the princes, once she was standing in the palace with the lot of them (save Hans) lined up to welcome her, some with their wives and children standing alongside them, her mind went blank.

Nikolaj was the oldest, followed by Kasper, Anton, Bertram, Fritz, Mikkel, twins Josef and Brahm, then Klaus, Franz, Svend and Lars. All twelve of them stood tall and straight, elbow to elbow like a row a tin soldiers. Some of them were in their military uniforms and some wore sashes or crests bearing the colours of the territories they ruled together with their wives. A few of them had brought their older children along to meet Elsa.

The one thing all the brothers had in common were their good looks. Their parents were equally easy on the eyes. King Enoch had the same striking green eyes and broad shoulders as his youngest son, and a white beard trimmed close to his strong, chiselled jaw. Queen Alma, with hair almost as white as Elsa's, was taller than her, or maybe it was just the way she carried herself; perfect posture, shoulders back, hips forward, all of it looking positively effortless. Elsa wondered if she could ever look as imposing, as stately. She knew a lot of it would come with age and experience, but she knew Arendelle needed and deserved a queen like that now. Ice rinks and weekly tours of the castle weren't going to cut it.

This evening was going to be the only chance to chat with the family in its entirety. Queen Alma explained to her that several of her sons would be packing up and returning to their respective kingdoms in the morning.

"It's been an exhausting past few weeks, you understand." Queen Alma strolled beside Elsa as they made their way to the dining room. Her hands were folded in front of her, and she held her chin up high. Elsa tried her best to emulate the queen, but in her mind's eye she looked more like a goose than a swan, with or without the good posture.

"Last week the capital celebrated Josef and Brahms' birthday, and last month Bertram's wife gave birth to their fourth daughter," Queen Alma explained.

"Congratulations," Elsa said. "How many grandchildren do you have, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Not at all," the queen replied, beaming. "We've been blessed with thirty-seven grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren."

"Wow," Elsa gasped. "So many!"

"Yes, with many more to come, I hope. The twins are finally both engaged, and then we have four still unmarried sons left."

As everyone was being seated, Elsa did some quick math in her head and realized that Hans hadn't been included in any of the numbers she'd tucked away so far. Not one person had mentioned him. She guessed that might have been because they thought it would be impolite, given everything that had happened. She decided that if she wanted to find out Hans' fate, she would have to put everyone at ease by bringing him up herself.

Throughout dinner, Elsa waited patiently for the opportunity to ask about Hans. She was famished, but she ate very little. She had a nightmarish vision of someone finally mentioning Hans while her mouth was full of food - she would try to speak and the contents would fall into her lap. She didn't drink much either, for fear that she'd accidentally freeze the crystal. She had packed several pairs of gloves, but she couldn't very well wear gloves to dinner, so she had to hope that things would remain calm and uneventful until she could make it to the room she'd be staying in.

The conversation was pleasant enough, and Elsa managed to relax some. She talked a lot about Anna, the subject she was most comfortable with. She quickly mentioned Kristoff when the queen looked just a little too interested in Anna's unmarried status for Elsa's liking.

Like there was any chance in hell Anna would ever marry into this family whether there was another man in the picture or not.

Dessert was served - a rhubarb and berry pudding topped with Chantilly cream. It was absolutely heavenly. Elsa asked the king and queen if she could have the recipe to give to her own chefs. Of course they were more than happy to oblige.

Things were going swimmingly, Elsa thought. This was as good a time as any to…

"I…um…" Elsa cleared her throat. "I had a letter from Prince Hans the other day."

It would be an exaggeration to say that, at the mention of Hans' name, everyone comically dropped their silverware on the floor and gasped loudly, but the truth wasn't much better. The room grew very quiet. Elsa glanced down towards the other end of the long table. They were all either looking at each other or staring into their glasses. It didn't even sound as though anyone was breathing.

"I-I'm sorry," she said quietly to the queen, even though she wasn't quite sure what she was apologizing for. King Enoch brought a napkin to his mouth and coughed into it, eyes flitting in the direction of his wife.

"A letter?" the queen sputtered, losing her composure for one sliver of a second. "Are you sure?"

Elsa blinked, puzzled. This was nowhere near the reaction she was expecting.

"Well…yes."

Everyone else at the table began speaking in hushed tones, and Elsa gripped the napkin on her lap under the table with both hands, twisting it between her fists.

_Calm yourself. Control yourself._

Leaning closer to Elsa, the queen whispered, "Perhaps this is something we can address once everyone has retired for the evening?"

Elsa nodded. "Okay," she replied, her voice shaking just the tiniest bit.

Coming here alone may have been a bad idea after all.

**oooOOOOooo**

True to their word, King Enoch and Queen Alma sat with Elsa in one of the drawing rooms later that night and talked about Hans. Or, rather, they talked around Hans. They apologized again for his treachery and the attempt on her life. They told her that he had been punished. "Tried, convicted and sentenced by God and King," Queen Alma said. Elsa was afraid to ask what that meant, but she knew this was something they had to get out of the way tonight. By the tones of their voices and the resistance in their eyes, she knew she wasn't going to be able to bring up Hans again for the remainder of her visit.

"When you say 'God and King', do you mean to say that…I mean is…is the Prince unwell?"

_Is he dying? Just ask already._

King Enoch looked away. Queen Alma shifted in her chair.

"Yes," she finally answered. "The doctors all say he may not be with us for much longer."

Elsa's stomach knotted. She felt an ache in her throat, as though it were straining to suppress a sob. She couldn't think of any reason the news of Hans' impending demise should bother her so. He was a snake, and soon he'd never be able to hurt anyone ever ag—

And then it happened – the arms of the chair she was sitting in started to frost over. The freeze extended from her fingers like fine, electric blue threads, tracing the detailed carvings in the wood, winding their way around the legs.

"I'm sorry!" Elsa gasped, leaping to her feet and wringing her hands together. "I'm so, so sorry!"

King Enoch reached out and touched her wrist. "It's alright, dear. No harm done."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I usually wear gloves, but –"

Queen Alma smiled kindly. "We're familiar with your powers. There's no need to hide them here."

Elsa nodded and slowly lowered herself back into the chair. Of course they knew about her powers, she thought stupidly. Everyone did.

"That letter you received must have been a forgery. Hans can't even lift a hand to feed himself, let alone write a letter," King Enoch said, looking at Queen Alma uneasily.

Queen Alma folded her hands in her lap. "He's been ill for weeks now. The king is right – it must be a forgery. Do you have the letter with you?"

Elsa shook her head. "No," she lied. "But if you need it to aid in tracking down the culprit forging letters in your family's name, I can have someone bring it right over."

_Testing…testing…_

"No, no. It's alright. I believe the best thing to do is to destroy it once you return home and forget any of this ever happened. Obviously it's just some scoundrel trying to start up a bit of trouble. What do you think, my dear?" King Enoch asked. The queen, once again, was in agreement. "Yes, I'm sure it was just a one-time occurrence. If it does happen again, though, please don't hesitate to let us know, Queen Elsa."

Elsa's fingers pinched and fidgeted with the hems of her sleeves in an attempt to pull them over her hands. Something wasn't right. Why didn't they want to see the letter?

_God, I wish Anna was here._

"We should all turn in for the night. It's very late, and we must be up early for your tour of the capital tomorrow," Queen Alma said pleasantly, taking Elsa by the elbow and gently but firmly guiding her out of her chair and towards the door. Despite the friendly tone, there was a visible clenching of the queen's jaw that sent a chill down Elsa's spine. Not _that _kind of chill.

"Very well," Elsa said quietly. Both the queen and king looked relieved.

Once in the hallway, Elsa turned to face them. She crossed her hands neatly in front of her and lifted her chin, arching an eyebrow as she stared down the two imposing figures. She wasn't going to let another member of this family try to pull a fast one on her or the people she loved again. With a firm tone leaving no room for argument, Elsa spoke.

"Tomorrow, after the tour, I should like to visit with Prince Hans."


	6. Snakes and Ladders

So,

I'm posting this chapter before I've gone over it for typos, incomplete sentences, etc. I hope it's still readable (at least until I have a few moments to go over it more thoroughly), and I hope you enjoy it. :)

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 6  
**SNAKES AND LADDERS

It probably goes without saying that tensions between Elsa, the king, and the queen ran high during the tour of the capital. Bolstered by her new found confidence and determination to solve the mystery of the missing thirteenth son of the Southern Isles, Elsa didn't let the royal couple's palpable anxiety ruffle her feathers. In fact, as the day unfolded she began to feed off of it. They were hiding something, and if there was a chance it could hurt Arendelle in some way, Elsa needed it dealt with as swiftly and as completely as possible.

The first thing that struck her was that the people seemed mighty cheerful despite an alleged influenza outbreak. Not that she was expecting villagers to show up weeping and wearing burlap sacks, but normally there would be at least one or two subjects who would bring up political or personal concerns when given the chance to speak candidly with a monarch. There were a few moments where she felt her usual social anxieties creep up on her. She worried that people would be afraid of her, probably after having heard all the stories about Arendelle's ice witch plunging the entire kingdom into an eternal winter, but no one said a word about her powers. Still, the people were friendly and very chatty, for which Elsa was silently grateful.

Some offered her humble, heartfelt gifts – fruits and vegetables from their gardens, eggs, bread, wine, jams and jellies. She wasn't sure what the proper protocol was for receiving gifts. It didn't seem right to offer to purchase them. She briefly entertained the idea of donating the gifts to the poor, but she decided in the end to accept the gifts and make a charitable donation in the people's name to thank them for their hospitality. She imagined her parents would have done the same thing.

On arriving back at the palace, Elsa tried to sustain her nerve from last night. She told King Enoch and Queen Alma how beautiful their kingdom was, how the people seemed to adore them, how kind everyone had been to her, and how well she was being taken care of at the palace.

Then she asked to see Prince Hans.

At first they outright refused to let her see him. He was in no condition to receive visitors, they said. He was too proud to be seen in such a weakened state. Then they told her that it would be reckless and irresponsible of her to put her life in peril by visiting with Hans. She didn't tell them she was impervious to illness because she was no longer sure they could be trusted, but she did tell them that they needn't concern themselves with her health. She let the comment about her being irresponsible slide.

_Pick your battles_, she thought. She willed away the uncomfortable prickling in the very tips of her fingers with several deep breaths.

"You say Prince Hans was tried and convicted, but I never attended a trial. I'm not sure what the law is here in your kingdom, but in Arendelle I possess the right to confront my attacker, just as your son has every right to challenge his accuser."

Elsa knew it was a reach, and she hated having to bring up the ugliness of Hans' crimes again, but she was starting to get desperate. Her knuckles began to ache. She could feel the freeze gathering in them.

_Calm yourself. Control yourself._

King Enoch was the first to relent. Queen Alma looked positively betrayed when he said that he would have guards escort Elsa to the wing where Hans was being quarantined.

Elsa thanked the King, hoping he could see that she truly meant it. He nodded sadly. Queen Alma's lips were pressed together so tightly it almost looked as though she had no mouth at all. Elsa tilted her chin up and tugged at the hems of her gloves. They all stood wordlessly awaiting the guards who would bring Elsa to Hans. She was relieved when they finally showed up, only because she wanted to be as far away from the king and queen as possible, but the fear that replaced it as she followed her silent escorts up dark stairwells and down even darker halls wasn't all that welcome, either. She didn't notice the frosty trail left behind by her every stride, like a carpet of lace, or the shoulders of the soldiers rising as they shrugged into their jackets. She couldn't feel the cold, and with their backs to her, she couldn't see their breath.

They finally reached a pair of doors at the end of one particularly long hallway. One of the guards opened them and stood aside for her to enter. After several more deep breaths, she tugged once more at her gloves and walked through. The doors slammed closed behind her, almost catching the back of her skirts, startling her half to death.

She looked up, one hand over her heart as though she could soothe it into beating at a normal pace again with the stroke of her palm. She had squeezed her eyes shut, but now she opened them slowly.

Not fifteen feet away from her was Hans, pale green eyes wide with astonishment. Elsa could do little more than stare back and bite her lip. He had been reclining on the window bench, but he abruptly stood up, quickly tucking something under one of the seat cushions. The sudden movement caused all her joints to cry out at once. She wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to control the freeze.

"_You_," Hans hissed, eyes narrowing.

It was amazing how his face and entire demeanour could change in an instant. It was like he'd just ripped off a mask. One minute he was easily one of the most handsome men she'd ever seen, and in the next he was…well…still very handsome, but dangerous - like some sort of beautiful, snapping beast whose face would change at the faintest whiff of fresh blood in the air. He wasn't drawing his sword to gut her like a fish just then, but he might as well have been. She imagined her beloved Anna, slowly freezing to death from the inside out, trapped in a room with this incarnation of Hans. Little by little, the temperature in the room they stood in now began to drop.

"What are you doing here?" he sneered, eyebrows drawing together, lip curling back to reveal his tightly clenched teeth.

"You're not sick," Elsa said, stating the obvious. Through the corner of her eye she could see the bed, which didn't look as though it had been slept in at all. He was wearing white linen trousers tucked into tall riding boots, and a thin, long-sleeved cotton shirt with an open neck that, had the temperature not dropped so significantly already, would have caused Elsa to blush. It was just his neck, but it was still far more of a man's neck than she'd seen before. He wasn't quite clean-shaven, but he hardly looked like a man too sick to lay a razor against his chin. His hair and the sideburns that ran the length of his face were, of course, still the colour of garnet.

Yes, he was handsome. Elsa could see why Anna had been so immediately drawn to him.

The snake.

Hans' face softened. He smirked.

"Oh. That," he said, relaxed now and clasping his hands behind his back, "I thought for sure my parents would have told _you_ the truth, if no one else."

"The truth about what?" Elsa asked, unable to control the trembling in her voice. She was really beginning to regret any and every decision she made that brought her to this spider's web. She wondered for a second if she would be able to kill Hans if he gave her no other choice. Her gloves were literally about to come off when he finally decided to answer her question.

"I'm not dying. I'm going to die, but I'm not dying."

"Not dying…" Elsa murmured.

"No," Hans replied.

"But you're going to die?" she asked, confused.

"Yes," he said. Then he smiled a strangely peaceful smile that was altogether unsettling. Turning on his heel, he strolled back into the shadows of his little nook by the window. He sat down and crossed one leg over the other, patiently waiting for Elsa to catch up.

Elsa's blue eyes grew to the size of saucers. Her jaw dropped just the tiniest bit. Hans gave her a little nod, still smiling that smile. This time she could see the cracks in it, could hear his heart breaking, or maybe it was the sound of her own. Up until this very moment, she wouldn't have believed he had one.

"You're being executed. Your parents are having you executed," Elsa said, feeling ill.

"Atta girl," he replied softly.


	7. Immersion

So,

Thank you very much for reading what there's been of Spun so far! I really appreciate it, and hope you're enjoying it! To those who have left me reviews or PMed me, I'm very grateful you took the time to do it. I couldn't be happier to hear (read?) from you, and I hope I can keep up the surprises. :)

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 7  
**IMMERSION

Elsa was quiet for so long that eventually Hans returned to looking out the window. The only other place in the room to sit was the bench at the foot of the bed. The tour had left her exhausted, but she didn't trust Hans enough to sit down just yet.

"Does it please you?" he asked, not turning to look at her.

"Does what please me?" Elsa asked in return, tossing her head of platinum hair with as much false bravado as she could muster in the hopes of making up for the tremble that still lingered in her voice.

"That you'll soon be rid of me for good," he said, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. Elsa smirked. He was clearly trying to employ the same tricks she'd been employing to get herself here. He was trying not to look like the frightened boy he was.

Elsa took a few steps towards the window. Hans' drew up his shoulders and crossed his arms. She could see his breath and the frost that began to gather in the corners of the window frame. He was too proud to otherwise acknowledge the cold. Elsa couldn't help the smug little smile that tugged at her lips.

_For Anna,_ she thought.

"I'm rid of you whether you live or die," Elsa said at last. "If you're asking me if I'll be happy when you're dead, the answer is no. I'm not like you. I don't take pleasure in the misfortune of others. I don't prey on the weak or take advantage of -"

Hans chuckled.

"Oh, come now. I wouldn't have taken _that_ much pleasure in your deaths. They would have merely been a means to an end." he said, standing and crossing the room towards the bed, causing Elsa to take several footfalls back to keep out of his way. He reached for a pair of braces that were lying on the bed and began buttoning them to the waist of his trousers. He tucked in his shirt and slipped one arm, then the other through the braces, bringing them over his shoulders.

Elsa stared down at her shoes. She moved the toe of one around on the floor in a little circle, leaving an imprint in the bit of snow that had gathered beneath her skirt where she was standing. He knows how attractive he is, she thought, briefly looking up again to see if he was done dressing himself. He was reaching into the wooden wardrobe by the bed and drawing out an olive waistcoat.

"Don't you find it's a little chilly tonight?" he asked innocently, smiling and shrugging his shoulders. Elsa rolled her eyes. "As I was saying, I wanted the crown. I wasn't going to kill you because I take any pleasure in the kill. Are we speaking frankly here?"

She arched her eyebrow. "I don't know. Are you capable of that?"

Hans grinned and wagged a finger at her. "Funny," he said. He buttoned up the waistcoat and smoothed it out. "I take pleasure in being good at what I do. I like being proven right about things. I'm a good judge of character, you know."

Elsa crossed her arms. "Are you, now?" she said, deciding to humour the slimy little creep for a bit.

Hans grabbed a pair of gloves from the table by his bed and slipped them on.

"Oh, I am. Look at the way I played you and your sister, for instance. That requires real, organic talent. It isn't a learned skill. If it was, and we had more time together, I'd offer to teach you. A queen can't be expected to protect her kingdom if she's too weak and foolish to even protect herself, after all."

Elsa's eyes narrowed and her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Don't talk about my kingdom. And _don't_," she growled, "talk about my sister."

An ethereal electricity hovered in the air around them then, tangible enough that even Hans' eyes widened with a sort of curious awe. Snow began to fall from somewhere above them, and there was a crackling coming from the windows as a shimmery blue frost rapidly reached across the window panes.

"I should leave," Elsa said, unclenching her fists and making her way briskly towards the doors. "Freezing to death is a far more painful way to go than…" her voice trailed off.

"Poisoning," Hans said flatly, finishing her sentence.

"The letter you sent me," she asked, still not looking at him. "Were you trying to make me angry so I'd come see you? You wanted me to…"

Hans was silent. Elsa shook her head, her voice catching in her throat. "I wouldn't. I would never…God, I can't even say the words."

"What?" Hans exclaimed. "You think I was trying to goad you into killing me? Of course not. That would be suicide, and I'm no coward," he snapped. "Actually," he said, raising an eyebrow at her and grinning, "my plan was to seduce you and get you to break me out of here."

Elsa turned around to face him but he very sharply turned his back to her. She stared at him sadly. His shoulders were slumped. His head drooped as though he'd been holding it up for far too long.

"No," she said quietly, understanding him then more than she wanted to. "It wasn't."

"If you don't do it, they'll win," he said softly by way of explanation after an extended silence. "If I'm going to die, I'm going to do it on my own terms. If anyone has just cause to end my life, it's you, Queen Elsa. _I choose_ _you_."

Against her better judgement, Elsa approached Hans slowly.

"I don't understand. Why are your parents doing this?" she asked. "And why would they tell everyone you're dying of influenza? If the law states –"

"It has nothing to do with the law. It's about keeping up appearances," Hans muttered. "Do you think anyone else knows what really happened in Arendelle besides the men who brought me home and a few dignitaries? Silences were bought and paid for. I was brought here and shut up in this room and the whole incident was covered up."

Elsa had no reason to believe anything that came out of this man's mouth, but what he said would certainly explain King Enoch and Queen Alma's odd behaviour, and their refusal to let her see Hans. Until she made them, anyways. If they were expecting her to keep their secret once she left this room, however, they had another thing com-

_Oh, no…_

Elsa gasped and ran for the doors. She grabbed the handles and tried to turn them. Neither would budge. She banged on the doors, calling out to the guards who were supposed to be waiting for her on the other side, but no one answered.

"They've locked you in here with me, haven't they?" Hans asked, chuckling sourly. "You know too much, I guess. I've got dibs on the bed."

Elsa took her gloves off and tossed them over her shoulder. "Here, hold these. I hope you have a warm coat in that wardrobe of yours," she said, raising her arms up and taking aim at the door. The freeze hummed throughout her entire body and pooled in the palms of her hands.

She threw her arms out in front of her and the entire room lit up with an explosion of snow and ice that burst forth from Elsa's hands like a spectacular shower of stars. Instead of penetrating the doors, however, the blast seemed to bounce off of them, turning her attack back on her. Hans dropped to the floor and grabbed Elsa's ankle, pulling it out from under her so she ended up beside him, out of harm's way.

"What just happened?" she groaned, raising herself up on her elbow. Every bone in her body howled.

"Whatever just happened, it happened to almost everything in the room except that door," Hans replied. He looked back over his shoulder. "And that window."

Elsa stood on wobbly legs and looked around. The wardrobe and bedside table had both tipped completely over. The bench that had been at the foot of the bed was now on the opposite side of the room. From its placement in the room and the angle it was lying at, Elsa deduced that it had somehow managed to bounce off the window, which was almost as troubling as the doors having remained completely intact, even after such a battering. She hadn't considered the window when she targeted the doors, which was incredibly reckless in hindsight. The window might have shattered and sliced both she and Hans to ribbons.

Hans got back on his feet and put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the damage. The whole inside of the room was coated floor to ceiling with rime. Icicles hung from the brass canopy bedframe and the wooden rafters high above them.

"It's pretty, if anything," he said, brushing the snow off his shoulders.

Elsa glared daggers at him.

"Remember what I said earlier about not having it in me to kill you?" she asked.

"Yes?" Hans replied, offering her back her gloves.

She grabbed him by the collar of his waistcoat with both fists, dragging him down so she could look him in the eye. "If I find out this was all one big ruse set up by you and your maniacal parents to capture me and hold me for ransom, I may just have to dig deep down until I find _'it'._"


	8. The Risks of Winter

So,

I'm hoping this chapter makes sense. I'm counting on you to let me know if it doesn't! I wrote it overnight, and typos tend to happen when I do that. As always, I hope you enjoy the update. Thank you so much for reading. :)

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 8  
**THE RISKS OF WINTER

Elsa lay down on the frigid floor, pressing her face against a cold she couldn't feel to peer under the doors. She was trying to see a light, a boot, the hem of a dress, anything that would be a sign that there was someone on the other side of the chamber doors she still couldn't open. Elsa fumbled to stand, feeling utterly hopeless.

"Why is this happening?" she shouted, stomping her foot in frustration. The entire room lit up a cerulean blue, and the sheer force sent the snow on the floor in every direction. Panic was turning her into a shimmering vortex of sleet and hail. She tore her cape off and threw it off to her side, cursing under her breath. She rolled her shoulders back before launching her arms forward again, this time towards the wall and the stone fireplace that protruded from it. She'd already blasted the window several times by then, and knew trying to destroy it was a futile effort. Something was protecting it, something powerful.

_Far more powerful than me._

Still, it didn't stop her from throwing everything she had at it and just about anything else in the room. She needed to take her anger out on something because she was so very close to taking her anger out on _someone_ instead.

Hans was hiding in the wardrobe. Well, not exactly hiding. Elsa had suggested he take cover while she made several more attempts at getting them out of that room. It was a good thing he was in there, because there was no guarantee she wouldn't have "accidentally" froze his shrivelled little heart into an ice cube and used it in a drink.

Elsa finally flopped down on the floor beside the wardrobe, exhausted.

"No luck, huh?" came Hans' voice from inside it.

"No," she said stonily.

"Is it safe to come out now?" he asked. In response, Elsa waved her hand tiredly, sealing the wardrobe doors shut by icing the locks.

"I still have a few questions for you."

Hans huffed, irritated, but the truth was that he really _was_ better off in the wardrobe. He could wrap himself in the clothes in there to keep warm.

"How did you get the letter to me if you were shut up in this room?"

Truth be told, that was the only question Elsa could come up with, because it was the only thing that didn't gel with Hans' story. If he wasn't working with his parents, if they _had_ actually locked him up in here on his return from Arendelle, then how was he able to get that letter to her without his family intercepting it?

"I bribed a guard who brought me my food one afternoon. He made sure the letter went through the proper channels."

"In exchange for what?"

"Just a few trinkets I had."

"Trinkets? What kind of trinkets?" Elsa asked, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Who gets locked up with trinkets?"

Hans was quiet for what felt like an eternity. She wondered if he was trying to come up with a decent lie. Maybe it was just taking him longer than usual because of the cold. When he answered, his response wasn't what she was expecting.

"I bribed him, okay? End of story. Next question," he said sharply.

_Oh…_

She had touched a nerve. Her heart started beating a little faster and her stomach ached. She couldn't even question a man she believed could still be a viable threat to her kingdom, for God's sake. She could build an entire palace out of ice, but what she really needed was a spine.

Okay, maybe Hans was actually telling the truth. He was a lying weasel back in Arendelle, but so far he seemed to be coming clean to her on a variety of subjects. How many men would admit to being a power-hungry, sociopathic, blood-thirsty monster? Elsa didn't have much experience with men, but she guessed that was pretty rare. The admitting part, anyway.

Elsa gnawed on one of her fingernails, at a loss for what to do next. But then Hans spoke again.

"My grandfather's gold spyglass, and his wedding band," came his muffled voice. "I used to play in this room alone as a child. There's a box hiding under a loose floorboard just to the left of the window seat."

_I used to play in this room alone as a child._

Elsa frowned, remembering her own lonely childhood. If this was another lie meant to tug at her heartstrings and get her to drop the line of questioning, Hans would be sorry. Really sorry. But if it was true…

She stood and walked to the window seat. She crouched down by it and began feeling around for the loose floorboard. Once she found it, she brushed some snow aside and used her fingernails to lift the wooden slat. She carefully set it aside, and tentatively reached into the dark space in the floor.

_Right there._

She pulled out a rosewood box with a flock of eleven pearl swans swooping across its lid. She cradled the box in her lap and carefully lifted the little gold latch to open it. Inside was an empty matchbox, a handful of pebbles, two white feathers, a spool of string, and a woman's wedding band. There was still plenty of room left for a spyglass and a man's wedding band to match the woman's.

"Why?" she asked, lifting one of the feathers to her face and running it thoughtfully along the line of her jaw.

"Why what?" he muttered.

Elsa shrugged her shoulders. "Why did you tell me?"

"Because you wanted to know, Queen Elsa," Hans replied a little sarcastically. "Remember, about a minute ago?"

"I mean what made you change your mind?"

A pause.

"I don't know."

Elsa believed him.

She returned the feather to the box, and the box to the space in the floor. She fit the floorboard back into its groove then walked over to the wardrobe. She closed her eyes and waved her hand to rid it of the ice keeping it from opening.

She could hear Hans pushing on the doors, but they didn't move. The ice she thought she had just removed was still very much there.

"Hey," he called nervously. "Are you still there?"

Elsa stood and placed her hand directly on the icy locks, closing her eyes again and really focusing.

_Nothing._

"It isn't working," she said, beginning to panic again. More frost began to climb up the walls. "Why isn't it working?"

"Why isn't _what_ working?" Hans asked apprehensively, feeding off the dread in her voice.

"I can't get rid of the ice! Why can't I get rid of the ice?" Of course there was no one around who could give her an answer, but she asked out loud nonetheless. If she couldn't get rid of that little bit of ice, she certainly wouldn't be able to thaw the entire room. The temperature would just keep dropping and dropping, until -

"Okay, calm down," Hans said coolly. "We'll figure this out. I'm sure I can get out of here myself. I just need to employ a little elbow grease. Stand back."

Elsa stood aside and waited. She heard Hans throw himself against the doors of the wardrobe, followed by a muffled curse and an "ow".

_This might take a while, _she thought, returning to the window seat. There wasn't as much grease on Hans' elbow as he thought, she guessed. She sat down, adjusting her skirts around her legs as she curled them up under herself. She could see what looked to be an envelope sticking out from beneath the seat cushion – the whatever-it-was that Hans had quickly hidden when she first showed up. Hans was still trying to force the doors open with little success. She pulled the envelope out from its hiding place and opened it. Inside was a letter.

Her letter. The letter she'd written to Hans.

She read it over again, refreshing her memory. It had been a few weeks since she'd sent it. It was impersonal but polite, written merely as a courtesy to the family. There was hardly anything about the letter that made it worth keeping as far as she could tell, let alone giving away family heirlooms for the opportunity to reply to it.

Calmer now, she went to have another go at getting Hans out of the wardrobe after returning the letter to its hiding spot under the seat cushion. Absorbed in thoughts of whether or not she should ask Hans why he had kept it, she didn't hear the wardrobe's doors finally bending and giving in to the dogged prince's will.

The wardrobe tipped off to one side and struck the wall as the doors burst open. Hans leapt out, finally free, but the icy floor prevented him from sticking the landing. The sole of one boot slipped out from under him, and he crashed into Elsa hard enough to knock the wind out of both of them. The two of them landed in an inelegant heap a few feet away from what was once a perfectly functional wardrobe.

Elsa opened her eyes. She was lying on her back, covered in various items of men's clothing, her head resting in the nook of Hans' arm and shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"No thanks to you," she said, only because she felt she had to say something mean just then to put a little distance between them. Her first instinct was to ask him if he was hurt, and that didn't sit well with her.

She pulled a navy frockcoat off her face and threw it to her side. Before she knew what was happening, the muscles in the arm she was laying on tensed. Hans' other arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her lithesome body on top of his own, then rolled them both over so that he was covering her. She was about to scream and tell him how repulsive he was when an icicle that had broken off from the rafters above hit the floor, shattering on impact precisely where her head would have been had Hans not moved as swiftly as he had.

It was the second time he'd saved her from herself today.

_He has freckles_, she remarked dazedly, looking up at him. She closed her eyes for a moment to catch her breath, involuntarily inhaling his scent – a combination of spearmint and wild tarragon. It suited him, she thought, breathing deeply. There was also something familiar about it, though she couldn't quite put her finger on what. Above her, Hans' chest moved up and down, up and down, and his naked Adam's apple leapt as he laboured to catch his own breath. For just a second, she felt something that might have been his lips against the top of her head, but she could have imagined that. His scent was leaving her dizzy. She opened her eyes as he raised himself on his forearms, his green eyes growing wide with embarrassment as a blush rose beneath the light spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he said, clumsily sitting back and offering her his hand to help her up. She hesitatingly took it and let him pull her back to her feet. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Y-yes," she stammered this time, her heart beating wildly.

But it was a lie.

She was not alright. Nothing would ever be alright again.

As long as Elsa was locked up in this room, Anna was in danger. Her kingdom was in danger.

And, much to her abject horror, Elsa might have just fallen a little in love with the man who may be the cause of it all.


	9. A Curious Beauty

So,

One day it's Spring, and the next we're right back to Winter. Is the weather wonky these days where you are, too?

Thank you, as always, for reading, reviewing, following, and all those sweet things. I appreciate it all.

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 9**  
A CURIOUS BEAUTY

Prince Hans Westergård of the Southern Isles,

It is with profound sincerity that I, Queen Elsa Riborg Voigt of Arendelle, do hereby grant my forgiveness for crimes committed against myself and the citizens of my kingdom. I assure you that we shall seek no further retribution beyond the punishment assigned to you in accordance with the laws of your dominion. Instead, my most genuine hope is that during this time, your majesty will find strength in solitude, rather than despair in isolation.

Yours sincerely,

Queen Elsa of Arendelle

**oooOOOOooo**

Elsa watched Hans pacing the room, shoulders shrugged against the cold, and arms crossed over a navy double-breasted half coat over a white, high-collared shirt. The rows of gold buttons running the length of the coat's torso all bore the Westergård family crest. He had tugged a second pair of gloves over the pair he was already wearing, and wrapped his elegant throat in a stiff, silk necktie. He was the perfect balance between grace and strength.

The devil.

His cheeks were ruddy, and his teeth were chattering. His pacing had slowed down considerably since he started, and his eyelids drooped over his soft, green eyes. The cold was clearly taking its toll on him. Still, when he caught her watching him before she could prevent it, a small, self-satisfied smile pulled at a corner of his mouth.

"Your Majesty?" Hans uncrossed his arms and gave Elsa a little bow. The drop in temperature had no effect on Elsa, so she couldn't blame the blush that coloured her face on the cold. Under her breath, she cursed herself for letting her guard down.

"Yes?" she asked hoarsely, folding and unfolding her gloves in her lap.

"You were looking at me."

Elsa shifted uncomfortably on the window seat. "Don't flatter yourself. It's only because there really isn't much else to look at in here right now."

"I don't mind you looking at me," he said, tilting his chin up haughtily. "I'm attractive - I know that. It's partly how I was able to net your sister so easily."

"Don't talk about my sister," she warned him, more for his sake than her own. "You're such an arrogant a –"

"You know," Hans interrupted, "you said that I'm incapable of telling nothing but lies, but every single time I've managed to prove to you I've been telling the truth, I've gotten no apologies from you. Not even for, say, locking me up in that wardrobe. That hardly seems fair."

"So, the truth _here_ is that you think you're attractive?" Elsa asked wryly. Hans began pacing again, hands clasped behind his back, cocksure like a hawk circling its disadvantaged prey. He smiled.

"I don't think I'm attractive, Your Highness. I _know_ I'm attractive. I also know I'm disarmingly charming. I can't accomplish much with it here, though. I'm the thirteenth son; handsome and charming are a dime a dozen in this family." Hans shrugged his shoulders with feigned indifference - there was an edge to his voice, though, that even he couldn't hide whenever he mentioned his family. "Those are all truths. I've committed many crimes. I'm a cad and I was willing to leave behind a death count to get where I wanted to be, but you're the bigger liar of the two of us."

Elsa was so taken aback by that last statement that she struggled to find words to express how outraged she was.

"You're insane. How's that for the truth?" she sputtered at last.

Hans chuckled. "You lie to yourself all the time, don't you? You're more like me than you care to admit."

"I'm _nothing_ like you," Elsa spat. Hans strode over to the window seat and sat down beside her. She glared at him before standing up and crossing the room, turning her back to him.

"We're two sides of the same coin as the expression goes. The same something dwells in both of us. We've both almost killed –"

"I was defending myself," Elsa said shakily. "I didn't want to kill anyone."

"Now that's not entirely true, is it? You had immobilized those two men, but it wasn't enough for you. You wanted to destroy them. I stopped you."

_Don't be the monster they fear you are._

"Yes, I wanted to be the big hero who swept in and saved Arendelle just when all hope was lost, but I had asked you to end the winter, remember? You said you couldn't. The fjord was frozen through. Your people were suffering. Does it really matter what my motivations were for wanting to put an end to their suffering so long as someone, oh I don't know, put an end to their suffering?"

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Elsa asked, wrapping her arms around herself. Her joints ached from the strain of keeping the freeze under control. "Asking me to end the winter was all part of your act. I was naïve. I let you manipulate me. I needed so desperately for someone to tell me I wasn't a monster, and there you were – Prince Charming. Then you try to crush me with a chandelier followed by an attempt to decapitate me."

She glanced back over her shoulder at Hans, who looked mildly surprised she'd managed to figure out that he'd purposely aimed the crossbow at the chandelier in her palace of ice as Elsa stood unsuspectingly under it. She shivered when Hans walked across the room so he could stand behind her, snow and ice crunching beneath his boots.

"We're both young, strong, and beautiful, Queen Elsa - capable of boundless heroism and staggering destruction," he said.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Elsa replied sardonically. Hans wasn't the least bit put off.

"I can't control the weather, but I can control people. I think you'd agree that can be just as dangerous, if not more so," he drawled huskily.

Elsa wanted so badly to move away from Hans, but the weight of his eyes on her back kept her close enough for his scent to take hold of her again. Soon she could feel his warm breath tickling the nape of her neck. For his own safety, she hoped he knew better than to try to touch her. She didn't like to be touched.

"Whatever it is you're trying to do right now, it isn't going to work," she said, standing a little straighter and pulling her shoulders back, trying to appear as confident as Hans seemed to be. "I'm not my sister. You were able to take advantage of her because she was lonely and desperately wanted someone to love who was capable of loving her back. I left her vulnerable to you, and I'll never forgive myself for that. But I didn't grow up lonely – I grew up in complete and utter isolation, in a room much like this one. Some might wonder if I ever felt like those four walls were closing in. It never felt like that to me." Elsa stared down at her clasped hands, a faraway look in her blue eyes. "The walls would draw farther and farther away from me with each day that passed, leaving nothing but more frozen wasteland in their place. No trees, or flowers, or people to watch. Just me. It was unbearable until it wasn't."

Elsa sighed, smiling sadly. "I don't suppose you could understand what I mean," she said, finally turning to face Hans. He was looking at her, but his expression was unreadable. For once he seemed to have nothing to say.

"So, you see, I'm very good at being 'just me'. Trying to seduce me for any nefarious purposes you may have in mind would be a waste of your time. You'd be better off conserving your energy so you don't freeze to death."

Hans was quiet for the longest time. She couldn't see his breath, and, despite herself, she began to worry about him. Then, without warning, Hans closed the distance between them, winding his gloved hands in her soft, white hair and pressing his mouth desperately to hers. Elsa felt the room begin to spin, and the icy floor beneath them exploded with light. It travelled up the walls and across the ceiling, setting the icicles that hung from the rafters aglow one after the other like lanterns. Elsa gasped against his mouth, her heart pounding so violently it frightened her. He parted the seam of her lips with his tongue and the icicles began to burst, becoming harmless snowflakes that glittered like tiny, winking diamonds by the time they met their heads and shoulders.

Hans fumbled to tear off his gloves, throwing them to his side before reaching for her again. She should have used that brief moment of freedom to push him away, but she didn't. She couldn't. One naked hand lightly traced the line of her neck, while the other made quick work of pulling out the pin and loosening the braid that held her up-do together. Her hair fell softly around her face and down her back like dove feathers. She pressed her hand flush against his chest, ready to free herself from him, but felt his heart beating against the palm of her hand as fiercely as if she were cradling it in her fingers. She began to tremble. He couldn't fake that, could he?

"Elsa," he breathed. The sound of her name on his lips, his perfect lips, was her undoing. She moaned and, despite every fiber of her being begging her to take heed, she kissed him back. The freeze hummed through her veins, but all she could feel were his hands, his tongue, his lips…

Hans suddenly pulled away, crying out in pain. He gritted his teeth and doubled over, tears springing to his eyes. Elsa looked down at her hand, the one that had been pressed against his heart.

"Elsa…?" he rasped, green eyes entreating her for answers she couldn't give him. Elsa wordlessly shook her head, eyes wide with panic and confusion. She drew her hands to her chest. His legs buckled beneath him and he fell to the ground.

"Hans…" she whispered. His eyes became glassy and unfocused; his lips began to turn blue.

_Please, no…_

Horrified, Elsa realized what she had done. She had just inadvertently frozen his heart.


	10. A Beast, An Angel, and A Madman

So,

Where the hell has Anna gone? Not to worry - she's around.

Thanks for all the reviews, PMs and favourites. I'm sorry it took so long for an update, but things managed to get busy, and busy gets the better of me every single time. Stupid busy.

I hope you're well! This chapter is a little longer than the others. I hope that makes up for the wait. Actually, wait - I hope the writing makes up for the wait! I may have to do some touch-ups here and there later today, but I hope you enjoy the chapter despite any typos or other messiness I might have overlooked before posting it. :)

Thank you for reading!

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 10**  
A BEAST, AN ANGEL, AND A MADMAN

"Anna, Kai and Gerda, Olaf…Come on, come on, come on…" Elsa muttered under her breath, hands hovering over Hans' chest. She was afraid to touch him again, even with her gloves back on.

"Chocolate, apple cider, music, dried cherries, dancing…" she continued, making a list of the things she loved in the hopes that she could thaw Hans' heart, or at least bring the temperature down in the room to keep him a little more comfortable…if that was possible. Unlike Anna, Hans had at least been granted the small mercy of being unconscious as he slowly froze to death.

_He's not going to die. You're not going to let him._

"I might not have a choice." Elsa muttered. She took a deep breath before lifting the top half of Hans' body off the floor. She crouched behind him, slipping her arms under his and around his ribs so she could haul him up against her chest. She was hoping that with enough will and determination, she'd be able to lift Hans off the frosty floor and get him on the bed so she could wrap him up in the blankets.

_My kingdom for a big, able-bodied, snow monster._

While Elsa was sure she could call one into being easily enough, until she knew how to send it back from whence it came, bringing even more snow and ice into the room wasn't a good idea. She tightened her arms around Hans, knees wobbling as she struggled to get back on her feet. Once her legs were steady, she began dragging him along the floor towards the bed.

She tried to tell herself that if he _did_ die, if she couldn't stop it from happening, he would only be getting what he deserved. His parents thought so, Kai and Gerda thought so, and even Hans himself seemed to think so. People were executed for treason all the time, right?

Elsa knew her rationalizations were completely nonsensical. If Hans died, it would be because she killed him – not for treason, but because he had kissed her.

And because she had liked it. Very much.

She'd never been kissed before, so she really had nothing to compare it to. All the folktales and myths she'd read never told her anything about kissing beyond it being a catalyst for something wonderful or something terrible happening. The prince kissed the princess and woke her from an eternal slumber, or the prince kissed the Fairy of Eden and all of Paradise fell into a thousand years of darkness. Elsa decided a long time ago that she just wasn't ready for princes, kisses, or whatever the combination of the two might bring, catastrophic or otherwise.

Never would Elsa have ever predicted that her first kiss would be someone's last. But then she also never thought her first kiss would be with her sister's sword-wielding, regicidal ex-fiancé.

What was she thinking?

She stood on the mattress, and, on a mental count of three, used all her strength to drag Hans onto the bed. The stiff fabric of the jacket he was wearing didn't make the task any easier. Once she was sure he wasn't going to slip over the edge, she let his body rest against hers as she tried to catch her breath. Her arms relaxed around him. She leaned her forehead against his back and sighed, wondering what the time was. Was it even the same day? She was hungry and exhausted, even though she knew there was no chance she'd be able to sleep or eat if given the opportunity to do either.

Elsa carefully eased the top half of Hans' body back on the bed as she slipped out from under him. She adjusted the pillow under his head and removed one of her gloves to check his pulse. It was slow, but steady. She was relieved until she noticed the streak of white extending from his forehead off to the right side of the part in his auburn hair. Under normal circumstances, she would have remarked on how distinguished it made him look.

Actually, that's not true. Under normal circumstances, Elsa wouldn't be here. She'd be at home in her own bed not giving Hans a second thought. Instead, she traced the strong line of his jaw with the very tip of one long, curious finger. Since she was wholly sure she couldn't cause him more harm than she already had, she climbed onto the bed and settled back on her haunches, leaning over to get a closer look at him.

"Hans?" she called to him quietly. He gave no response. In a normal speaking voice she called his name again, but again there was no answer. Telling herself she was only doing so to see if his eyes were moving beneath his eyelids, she leaned in even closer. Really she was marvelling over how long and dense his eyelashes were, and how perfect his turned up nose was. His skin was pale and his lips were thin, though they didn't feel thin pressed against hers, she remembered.

"Maybe," she began, touching the shock of white in his hair, "I could have…"

…_could have loved you once._

"Maybe," she whispered bleakly. "If things had been different."

If she had seen the sword coming, had turned her head in time to see the look on his face seconds before he almost took her life without a moment's hesitation, maybe she wouldn't be waiting so expectantly for him to speak again. But she hadn't, and she didn't. Looking at him now, she couldn't imagine he could ever have been so cruel. Like he had said, though - it was his looks and his charisma that had first captivated Anna, and he had callously taken full advantage of that. Elsa had to remind herself that Hans was a cold, calculating master of deception.

_Very cold,_ Elsa thought wryly before she could help it. _And a good kisser. I think._

She flopped back on the bed beside Hans, putting as much distance between their bodies as the mattress would allow. Her eyes fluttered shut for few minutes, finding the rhythm of Hans' slow, rasping breaths strangely comforting. Her mind wandered to places it shouldn't have. She thought about the box hiding under the floorboards. She thought about the eleven pearl swans on the lid, and the long, white feathers he'd saved. She thought about the pebbles and imagined a young Hans standing on a beach, collecting those same pebbles and watching the swans out on the water through his grandfather's spyglass.

Even after all the time she'd spent with King Enoch and Queen Alma, and despite having met their other twelve sons, Elsa, try as she might, couldn't imagine Hans out on that beach with a single one of them. In her mind's eye, he was alone, watching the waves lapping the shore and the toes of his boots with a faraway look in his sad, green eyes. It was just him.

_Just him._

"I thought you didn't dance."

Elsa started at the sound of Hans' voice, eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and relief. There was a chance she wouldn't be labelled a murderer after all. He didn't open his eyes, but it was just enough for Elsa that he was able to speak, even if what he'd said hadn't made any sense and sounded like it was crawling to her across broken glass.

"You're awake," she said, stating the obvious. Hans gave a little nod of his head.

"I thought you didn't dance," he said again.

Elsa scrunched up her nose, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"Anna told me…you didn't...dance," he croaked. Elsa blinked. Had he been able to hear her when she was trying to revive him earlier?

"She's right. I don't dance," Elsa replied, still confused but curious. She pulled her glove back on. "I like to watch people dancing, though. I just…" she hesitated, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. "I don't like being touched."

Hans smirked, "Yeah…I kind of got that."

Feeling ashamed, Elsa blushed. "I'm sorry. It…I didn't hurt you on purpose."

"And here I thought you were warming up to me," he said, his chuckle trailing off into a series of coughs. Elsa looked away.

"This isn't an appropriate time to make jokes," she said.

"Not even bad ones?" he replied. When Elsa glanced down at him, she saw that he had one eye open and a grin across his face. She turned her back to him so he couldn't see her smile.

She really needed Anna here so she could smack Elsa upside her big, stupid, smitten head.

_The same head Hans tried to take right off your shoulders with his sword_, she reminded herself.

"How do you feel?" she asked soberly.

"Cold," he answered. "My chest aches and it's a little hard to breathe, like there's a fist squeezing my heart."

_My fist,_ Elsa thought, wincing. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've gotten so much better at controlling my powers. But you startled me, and…I told you that trying to pull the same tricks on me that you pulled on Anna would be a waste of your time. The only other reason for…"

…_kissing me. _

She couldn't even say the words out loud.

"…for doing what you did…" she fumbled shyly, "The only other reason would be that you were hoping it would kill you. You were hoping_ I _would kill you. I'm not an angel of death. Not that I thought we've become the best of friends or anything, but I thought you understood my position on -"

She felt a lump grow in her throat, effectively stopping her from finishing that sentence. Tears sprang to her eyes and she quickly brushed them away with her gloved hands before he could see them.

Hans tried to raise himself up on his elbows. His breathing was laboured, and he was shivering violently. Elsa knew she should have stopped him from trying to move, but she was afraid to touch him again, even with the gloves on. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, clearly in agony, but the emotional tumult within Elsa had grown too powerful, and it was a power she could no longer trust so long as she was alone with Hans.

He finally managed to sit up straighter than either of them thought he could, or at least that's what Elsa guessed by the look on Hans' face when they found themselves nose to nose.

After the initial shock, Hans' features softened with what could only be described as uninhibited wonder.

"Maybe I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you," he said softly.

Taken aback, Elsa's heart began pounding against her ribs and the bodice of her dress suddenly felt far too tight to accommodate all the activity. His lips parted and his eyes began to close. Hers did the same. The blankets fell away from his chest as he leaned his body forward, and Elsa, though every single one of her instincts screamed at her to pull away and make another go at getting out of that room, swayed precariously closer to his lips. The kiss she hadn't anticipated she'd want so much never came, though. Instead, his icy breath ghosted along her jawline, traced the helix of her ear, a foreshadowing of how the cold sting of his mouth directly on her skin might feel. The freeze hummed sensually throughout her entire body, but with no way to release, or even relieve itself, it just kept churning and churning inside of her, becoming more commanding by the second. If she didn't do something, she was afraid she might crack like an egg. Thankfully, the tickle of Hans' sideburn against her cheek returned to her a sliver of her mind, just enough to give her pause.

"Don't," she whispered.

"Don't what?" Hans breathed. His hand crept along the bed towards hers. She was perfectly still as he toyed with the fingers of her glove. With one firm tug, he managed to yank it right off her hand. Elsa crossed her arms and, with great effort, stood from the bed, but not before snatching her glove back from him.

"That's enough," she said, her voice trembling. "I've already told you I don't like being touched. And you're supposed to be on your deathbed."

Hans laughed mirthlessly and stared at his hands in his lap. "That's right. I almost forgot you tried to kill me."

Stricken, Elsa's blue eyes grew wide as night. "You know that's not true!"

"Fine," he muttered, waving a hand at her dismissively. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put it that way."

Elsa looked back over her shoulder at him, disgusted with herself for missing the feel of his breath on her neck. "God, I'm so stupid. I need to get out of here."

"What are you talking about?" Hans asked, bemused.

Elsa sighed. "Just when I think you're being even a little genuine with me, the mask slips."

Hans rolled his eyes. "So what's supposed to have given me away this time? Another lie?" he asked sarcastically. "And what was I lying about? That I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you, or that another part of me still believes that you want me dead?"

Elsa arched an eyebrow at him. "And what if a part of me _did_ want you dead? You yourself told me you couldn't blame me. You left my sister to die a slow, painful death, you repulsive parasite! But that wasn't even your biggest crime. You made her fall in love with you first, and then you made a cruel joke of it. You shut her up in a room not unlike this one, you put out the fire to hasten her demise, and then you came after me."

Looking infuriatingly unmoved, Hans wrapped his arms around himself and glared at her. Elsa's hands balled into fists. Cracks began to appear in the sheets of black ice on the walls and window, glowing hellish red in spite of the near-arctic temperature of the room.

"What do you want me to tell you? That I'm sorry?" he snapped, his face darkening.

"Like a sorry from you would mean anything," Elsa snorted. "I've picked handfuls of berries worth more than an apology from a slimy bastard like you."

"A slimy bastard like me, huh? Why did you kiss me back, then?"

"I'm tired, and hungry, and out of my mind with worry!" she yelled, composure finally worn down to nothing.

Hans angrily threw the sheets back and climbed out of bed. He stood on unsteady legs, leaning heavily on one of the bedposts for a moment before attempting to stand on his own. Elsa detested that she was concerned he might hurt himself.

"Who's lying now?" he spat. His shoulders stiffened and his face contorted in anguish. Another streak of white unfurled in his auburn hair, not far from the first one.

"How dare you question me!" she shouted. "I only came here in the first place to investigate what I'd been led to believe was an influenza epidemic. I was doing what I thought was best for Arend—"

"Oh, _blah-blah-blah!_" Hans shouted back. Elsa couldn't believe her ears. No one had ever dared speak to her that way before. She barely knew how to react.

"_Excuse me?!"_ she blurted. Her wild blue eyes locked with his absinthe green ones combatively. A muscle in Hans' clenched jaw ticked and Elsa felt an unfamiliar heat pool in the pit of her stomach.

"You might not be ready to admit it, but I am," he said. "You kissed me back and you liked it, and that's what scared you. You have the love of your people, and your sister, and that's all well and fine, I'm sure. But what you felt when I kissed you was -"

"Ugh!" Elsa scowled, cutting him off before he said something that would mess with her head even further. "Don't even think about trying to talk me into believing you're capable of loving anyone but yourself."

Hans groaned and fell to his knees, his spirit looking suitably crushed for Elsa's purposes. Another streak of white rippled through his hair, then another. Still, Hans grabbed the bedpost and stubbornly attempted to pull himself up. Elsa's heart hurt for him, but if she'd learned anything from her experience with Hans, it was that a really good series of lies required an unwavering commitment to the bit.

"Does it hurt?" Elsa asked, plastering a sickening smirk on her face. Hans said nothing, but the answer was obvious. "I'm glad," she said.

She wasn't.

Hans gave up the fight to get back on his feet and sank to the floor. His eyes narrowed with rage, spilling angry tears.

Elsa found she couldn't control the sheer volume of ugly words that had built up inside her. They just kept coming. She knew a large part of it had to do with her never having truly confronted Hans about everything he almost got away with during the eternal winter. But another part of it, an even larger part, was about her desperate need to push Hans as far away from her emotionally as possible, because no matter how he felt about her, or made her believe he felt about her; it wouldn't change how she felt about him. Elsa was repeating Anna's mistake, fully aware of the consequences but unable to stop herself. She was falling in love with Hans, and she was terrified.

"The closest we've ever come to sharing a connection is when the blade of your sword almost connected with the back my neck." Elsa said, swaying where she stood and feeling as though she might faint. Trying to keep the freeze under control so as not to give away her true feelings had taken a great physical toll on her. The room wasn't big enough to contain the storm spiralling out of control inside her, so that's exactly where she needed to keep it.

"I don't know why your parents trapped me in here with you," she continued. "Maybe they're too cowardly to execute you themselves, or maybe they're exacting some sort of revenge on me and my kingdom. Either way, the rotten apple evidently doesn't fall far from the tree." Elsa said, feigning apathy by turning away so she wouldn't have to see the barefaced suffering etched into Hans' handsome features as she delivered the final blow. "I met your brothers and they barely acknowledged your existence. Even your own parents want you dead. Maybe your last moments on this earth could have been different, if only there was someone out there who loved you."

"Enough!" Hans cried out, raising his hands to cover his ears. The suffering in his voice was so raw that Elsa could feel it in her bones. Before she knew what was happening, she found herself falling backwards, landing rather inelegantly on her backside to avoid the barbed hedge of ice that appeared in an explosion of snow and frost between her and Hans as though it was an extension of his voice.

_His_ voice. _His_ hands.

Elsa scrambled to make her way around the wide arc of the icy barrier. Behind it, Hans lay on his side, one hand still over one ear, one arm twisted behind his back. She carefully turned him over so that he was resting on his back, gently unwinding his arm and placing it at his side. She began to unbutton his jacket and waistcoat so she could check his heartbeat. That's when she saw it – an azure blue glow radiating from beneath Hans' white, cotton shirt.

"What…?" Elsa whispered, voice trailing off into stunned silence. She threw open the jacket and waistcoat then quickly untied the scarf that was wrapped around his neck. She slipped his braces over his shoulders and tugged them down around his elbows. Despite the dire circumstances, Elsa hesitated before pulling his shirt up under his arms.

_Really, Elsa. This is no time for modesty._

She needn't have worried that her eyes would wander where they hadn't been invited. Once she lifted Hans' shirt, all she could see was the brilliant, shimmering imprint of a snowflake over his heart. Not just a snowflake – _her_ snowflake. She hesitantly reached out and touched it before recoiling, alarmed, when she realized the mark was burned into Hans' flesh like some sort of branding. Elsa closed her eyes against the intensity of its light and laid her head against his chest to listen for a heartbeat, but there wasn't one to be found.

_Hans…_

_I wish Anna was here_. _Anna would know what to do_.

Elsa's chin wobbled as she pressed her lips together to keep from crying. Crying certainly wouldn't do either of them any good just then. "I don't understand what's happening, and I don't know how to help you. This is all I can do," she said, holding out her hand and conjuring a few glittering snowflakes with a flourish of her fingers. "This is it. I can bring snowmen to life, but I can't bring people back from the dead. So you can't die, okay?" she sniffled, the suppression of tears causing an ache in her throat that made it hard to speak aloud.

She bundled Hans back up in his waistcoat and jacket. "Listen," she began, lifting his hand and trying to bend it into a handshake. "I'll make a deal with you – you stay alive, and I'll figure out a way to get us out of here, and we'll…we'll figure something out, okay? I-I'll bring you with me. But I can't do it if you're..."

Elsa let Hans' hand fall back to his side and bowed her head.

"You were right," she said. "I'm a liar. I said there was no connection between us, but that isn't true. We do have a connection. I really, _really_ hate it, but it's there. You were shut out, and I was shut in. You were a boy who grew up wanting one kind of freedom, and I was a girl who grew up wanting another. And here we are, needing and wanting our freedom more than ever. The difference now is that neither of us are alone this time. We can do this together. I just need you to stay with me."

Elsa searched Hans' face for any sign that he could hear her, but there was nothing. "Please, Hans…" she whispered thickly. Defeated, her shoulders sagged and she began to sob, releasing the freeze that had been building up inside her all this time from its shackles to do with her body as it wished.


	11. Thorn in My Side

So.

I haven't slept for a couple of days because I'm manic. I think this is the longest chapter yet, but it might come with some typos or grammar goofs. Once I get a couple of hours sleep, I'll be able to give it another once-over. In the meantime, I hope it's legible!

It's beginning to feel a lot like Summer! About time!

As usual, thank you so much for all the reviews, follows and favourites. I really appreciate them, and I'm happy you're still here with me and hanging on. :)

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 11**  
THORN IN MY SIDE

Once Elsa stopped thinking and let the full breadth of her emotions take over, she felt free. There was no one left to protect from the cold, and for the first time since she first found herself locked up in that room, she truly believed that she was going to die there. Without her direction, the freeze had its way with her surroundings. The room had quickly become a glacier-like tomb, which was fitting, she thought as she stared glassy-eyed at the bed. Snowflakes hovered in midair like cosmic dust, and the icicles that had formed on the rafters hung so dangerously low that Elsa could just barely stand up straight, not that she had tried since she managed, with much greater ease this time around due to all the ice on the floor, to place Hans' body on the bed.

She had carefully dressed him again, properly tucking his shirt back into his trousers and pulling the braces back over his shoulders. She buttoned up his waistcoat then gently cradled his head against her breast to wrap the silk scarf around his neck. She meticulously tied it and tucked the ends into the collar. She slowly buttoned his jacket, smoothing the lapels down and letting her hand linger over the royal crest under which lay the snowflake she'd scarred him with when she froze his heart.

She was about to pull the blankets over his head but stopped short of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she said. It was the first thing she'd said in what felt like days, though she knew only an hour or two had passed. "I said I wasn't like you, and that I didn't prey on the weak. You called me a liar and I called you a repulsive parasite, a monster, a slimy bast—"

Elsa's whole body shook as she sobbed. "God, I can't even tell you if I meant the words when I said them or not. I can't tell the lies I've told from the truths anymore. How many lies do you have to tell before you start losing track of them all?" She looked down at Hans' still face. She still hoped to see his eyes moving beneath his eyelids, or a quirk of his mouth. "I'm sorry…" she whispered again brokenly.

She curled up beside him on her side so she could look at his profile. Like everything else in the room, he'd been drained of all colour. There was only white. This was not the magnificent blue ice palace she'd raised on the mountain from sheer will. That was born from an altogether different kind of freedom than the one she felt now. This time, untethered to anyone or anything, she felt lost, and the only will she had now was the one to die. Even if she did manage to escape, she'd murdered a man. Yes, King Enoch and Queen Alma wanted Hans dead, but no one else knew that. Elsa would be accused of the same crimes Hans had committed in Arendelle. Queen Elsa came to the capital after forging a note from a member of the royal family, dined with the king and queen, won the heart of their entire kingdom, and then slaughtered their prince with her witchcraft.

If Elsa didn't fight her way out of there, she'd surely be executed. If she did fight, though, it could start a war. More people would die – people who didn't possess her powers and could in no way protect themselves against whatever force was keeping her locked in this room, a force that was proving itself to be far greater than her own.

"Anna…" she murmured. _If I died in this room, Anna would be crowned queen. She'll be engaged to Kristoff in short time, I'm sure. They're brave, loyal, and kind. He can keep her grounded when her flakier side starts to get the better of her._

Elsa smiled to herself when she thought of how much she adored Anna's flakier side - as much as she loved everything else about her. She hoped Anna would remember that love and find strength in it during the dark times ahead. Elsa moved closer to Hans. She needed to be close to something human just then. He wasn't Anna, but he was flesh and bone, and he still smelled like the most alive thing in this room – like spearmint and wild tarragon. She pulled Hans' arm out from under the covers, then burrowed under it and rested her head on his shoulder, too tired then to feel guilty about using his body this way.

"I used to read a lot of Greek myths when I was a child. Well…I mean I used to read all sorts of things. All I had was time, solitude, and books after all. The Greek myths gave me nightmares when I was very young – gods eating their young, raping women, exacting the vilest revenge on their enemies, starting wars. I remember reading about Hades and Persephone, and how he kidnapped her and brought her to the Underworld. It kept me up at night, but I couldn't very well climb into bed with my parents or with Anna. I'd freeze them to…" her voice trailed off. "Well…you know," she finally said quietly.

She continued. "For a while I was afraid that I could be whisked away in the middle of the night, and no one would ever notice I was gone. Or, worse yet, maybe even…" Elsa took a deep breath, feeling bad for ever having believed her parents were capable of such a thing, but - "Maybe my parents would even be relieved I was gone."

Without realizing it, Elsa had placed her hand over Hans' while she had been talking. She was surprised when she noticed, but she didn't draw her hand away. Instead, she thought about how lucky she had been. Yes, her parents had made many mistakes, but they loved her with their whole hearts. Hans' parents, however…

She squeezed his hand.

"As it turns out, I didn't have to worry about being captured and taken to the Underworld because evidently I bring my own Underworld with me wherever I go," she said. She stared at the thousands of snowflakes suspended in the air all around them as though time had stopped. She wondered if the icicles hanging from the rafters would eventually become so heavy that they'd fall and impale her, or if their weight would pull the entire ceiling down and crush her.

She was too exhausted to be scared anymore.

"Hans…" she began, tears still stinging her eyes. "When you kissed me, I…What you said was…And I lied to you about…" Elsa stammered. She sat up and leaned over him, letting his arm fall behind her. She tentatively reached out and, with a gloveless hand, traced the stubbled line of his jaw. She touched one of the white streaks in his hair and stroked his brow. "Hans," she whispered again. She lowered her head, touched her forehead to his. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing hitched. Before her mind could return to her, she pressed her lips tenderly to his. She felt the freeze begin to stir inside her again, and she was disgusted with herself for violating Hans' body this way, for the heart that betrayed her by skipping a beat when she put more pressure on his mouth with her own, and, lastly, for wanting to kiss him again. But she found she couldn't pull away. How was it possible that the kiss of a dead man could make her feel so alive, she wondered.

And then the dead man began to kiss her back.

Elsa started, her breath leaving her all at once, or, perhaps when Hans inhaled sharply, gasping as though he'd been submerged in water for far too long, he took her breath from her. All at once, the colour returned to his lips, cheeks and hair. And then there they were, his eyes – lucid, flawless, and greener than spring.

So many things went through Elsa's head in that instant. Confusion, relief, happiness, dread, but she hardly had any time to dwell on any of those emotions for more than a few seconds, or even assign them to any one thing. The one emotion that lingered, though, was the one she welcomed the least – shame. She had killed him, said those reprehensible things to him, then desecrated his…

Well, it _was_ his corpse only moments ago. And she'd been caught.

_I'm disgusting_, she thought despairingly, feeling dizzy on the receiving end of his unblinking gaze. She fumbled to pull away from him, but the hand at the small of her back moved swiftly to stop her, tightening around her hip. Her stomach clenched and she closed her eyes. Subdued and then guided by his firm hold on her, she leaned over him again. Her white hair fell in and around her face, and Hans reached out a hand to feel it between his fingers before wrapping it around the back of her neck and lifting his head from the pillow just high enough to close the distance between his lips and hers. Immediately, the freeze began its now familiar eddy through her veins, tingling deliciously as it did the first time Hans kissed her. When Hans used his thumb to tilt her head and deepen the kiss, her mouth opened against his and her tongue began to explore it with earnest. He moaned, his own tongue chasing hers, and Elsa thrilled at hearing the sound of his voice again, even if no words came with it.

Elsa's hand trembled as she pulled at one of the ends of his silk neck scarf, her heartbeat picking up its rhythm. Suddenly remembering she didn't have her gloves on, she hesitated for a second. Then Hans began to bite, suck and lick his way to her ear, her neck, and her mind went blank. She finished untying his scarf and drew it out from under him, then started to unbutton the high-collared shirt he was wearing. She needed to feel his pulse fluttering beneath her fingers, needed to feel his Adam's apple undulating against her lips. She had no idea what had gotten into her, but moments ago she was sure she was going to die - that a large part of her had been long dead already - and now every molecule was pulsating with life, and, for whatever reason, Hans was the source of that life.

Hans' hand gripped her hip hard and, in a single, smooth motion, he rolled them both over so that he was free of the bedding and on top of her. It happened so fast and caught her so off guard that she didn't have time to keep the freeze in check. It rapidly gathered in the palms of her hands and spilled from the tips of her fingers. The release, combined with the feeling of Hans' icy breath, lips and tongue travelling down her neck, felt so good that she couldn't tear herself away. She hardly noticed the blue glow beneath his white shirt that only grew stronger with every drop of the freeze that poured out of her. His body seemed to be absorbing all of it. Moreover, he seemed to be aroused by it. He ground himself against her thigh, growling softly into her hair.

Alarm bells started going off.

_What…?_

Her eyes widened. She could feel him, or rather _it_, through the skirt of her dress and petticoat. It felt larger and firmer than it had looked through his trousers when she was tucking his shirt in (not that she had looked or anything). She lifted her hips to meet the drop of his, her body instinctively knowing what it wanted before she did, and Hans' teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

Neither of them had spoken a word yet. She was afraid that she'd come to her senses if they did, and she wanted all five of her senses to remain just beyond her control.

Not to mention that bad things happened when the two of them talked.

"Elsa…" he moaned, and she felt its timbre in her chest, her thighs, her stomach. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, her fingernails biting into the fabric of his velvet coat. _Okay, maybe talking wouldn't be too terrible_, she decided, arching her back and rocking against him. He reached down and grasped the hem of her skirt and petticoat and pulled them up around her thighs, shifting his body so that he could lie between her legs. Elsa gasped when she felt his hand brushing against her bare skin, and toying for a moment with the garter just above her knee that held up her white, silk stocking. He ran his fingers along the stiff fabric of her bodice, and a long, blissful sigh escaped her lips. The pleasure of being able to touch and be touched was almost decadent. It was something so simple but so often taken for granted by others.

He reached behind her and gripped one of the brass bars of the canopied bed, thrusting himself against her again, rather forcefully this time, and groaning thickly in her ear. She dug her fingers into his lush red hair, clutching the back of his head and roughly pulling him into their kisses with equal force. His tongue slid unrelentingly against hers and his hand unfurled across her breast, his thumb grazing her nipple through her dress. Elsa rolled her hips and squirmed a little, but was careful not to disturb the rhythm she and Hans had wordlessly established.

She didn't stop to think about Anna. She didn't stop to think about her kingdom. She didn't stop to wonder why this was happening, what Hans was thinking, or whether or not they'd ever see the light of day again. All she thought was that she needed this – his whispers, his moans, his tongue, lips, teeth and taste. Occasionally, Elsa would allow herself some awareness of the freeze surging inside her, and how it practically roared in her ears. She could still feel it streaming into Hans whenever and wherever his bare skin made contact with hers. She began to unbutton his coat and he raised himself up on his knees to accommodate the nimble movement of her determined fingers. She was less patient with the buttons of his waistcoat. He sat back on his haunches and finished the job for her, quickly shrugging out of both articles of clothing then throwing them off to his side.

He grabbed her by the ankles and tugged her fiercely towards him along the bed, pulling her into his lap. Her skirts pooled around her waist as he gripped her bare thighs, directing her to wrap her legs around his hips. He palmed her breast again with one hand, eliciting a whimper from Elsa, and then very deliberately ground his rigid arousal against the silk drawers she wore under her petticoat. He hissed his pleasure and pinched the nipple beneath his hand. Elsa cried out.

_Oh, God…_

She had questions, of course, that she chased into the shadows of her mind. Why wasn't Hans feeling the cold? Had he really been dead or just unconscious? How was Hans able to conjure that ice barrier before he collapsed?

That last question was the most worrisome of them all. There was no doubt that she had feelings for Hans – inappropriate feelings she knew she'd have to shake eventually – but she couldn't trust him. If she had somehow managed to transfer some of her power over to him when she struck him, she knew she would have to leave him behind. The freeze could be catastrophic in the hands of a man like Hans. She would have to keep this secret to herself. The safety of both their kingdoms depended on it.

The snowflake imprinted on his flesh was now emitting a glow too intense to ignore. Reluctantly halting all movement, she pulled back. Hans moved to gather her up in his arms again, but she tilted her body back and out of his reach.

"Hans…" she whispered. He followed her gaze to the mark over his heart, eyes narrowing against its brilliance. He slipped his arms out of his braces and removed his shirt. His eyes grew to the size of saucers, a mixture of awe and fear running amok on his face as he observed the brand on his chest for the first time. Elsa couldn't look at him – she was too ashamed.

"Is this…?"

"Yes," Elsa answered hoarsely before he could finish the question. "When I froze your heart."

Hans studied it silently. His hand hovered inches away from it for the longest time as though he were afraid to touch it. He used his finger to trace the unmarked skin around it. One second Elsa wanted so badly to know what was going through his mind, and in the next she hoped he'd never speak again.

"Did this happen to…"

"No, I don't think so," Elsa said. "When I froze Anna's heart, it was from a distance. When I…" she shuddered, remembering the feeling in the pit of her stomach and the feel of her heart in her throat when Hans collapsed after their first kiss. "When I froze your heart, my hand was touching it."

Hans raised his eyebrows and smirked at her. Elsa blushed. "I mean your heart," she clarified. "I was touching your heart."

He smiled then, and she could have sworn it was a real smile.

They both turned their attention back to the mark on his chest.

"Does it hurt?" she asked softly. Much to her relief, Hans shook his head.

"No," he replied, distracted. "Oh, geez. Is it in the shape of a _snowflake_?"

"Um…yes."

Hans huffed, disappointed. "Of course it couldn't be in the shape of a dragon, or a lion or something."

"I'm sorry," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. "The snowflake is…It's kind of my thing. I have no control over it."

"You say that a lot," Hans remarked, still staring at the snowflake without venturing to touch it. "Do you think this thing is permanent?"

"What do I say a lot?" she asked.

"That you have no control. Not always in those exact words, mind you –"

"I don't, do I?" Elsa wrung her hands together. When did his opinion start meaning anything to her?

"You do, whether or not it's actually the case."

Elsa rolled her eyes and chuckled nervously, "Oh, how I did miss our talks."

Hans leaned back on his hands, smiling smugly, and Elsa realized she was still sitting in his lap.

"Can I give you a piece of advice?" he asked lightly.

Elsa arched an eyebrow at him. "Can I stop you?"

"Whether you think you're capable of handling it or not, if you don't take control, there will always be someone waiting in the wings who will," he said, eyes on hers and a wicked little grin on his face. "I was that someone once, Your Majesty." He began to rock his hips from side to side beneath her skirts.

"You're exasperating," Elsa said, trying to ignore how good the simple movement made her feel. She was also trying to ignore the ridged plane of his stomach, the contours of his strong shoulders, and his long, sinewy arms, mostly because now he knew she liked looking at him, and she didn't want to keep feeding into his vanity. There just wasn't enough space left in the room for his head to get even bigger than it already was, what with all the icicles and snow drifts closing in on them.

"Elsa…" Hans began quietly, meaningfully.

Elsa glanced at him, expecting to see the same self-satisfied smile on his face, but instead he was straight-faced and staring at Elsa's hands woven together and sitting in her lap.

"What is it?" Elsa asked, her tongue darting out to lick her dry lips. The action caught Hans' attention, and he finally met her eyes, the same serious look still on his face. There was sincerity in his wide, green eyes that threw her for a bit of an emotional loop.

"I…um…Can you pass me my shirt?"

Elsa frowned. She wasn't sure what she was expecting him to say, but that certainly wasn't it. She picked up his shirt and held it tightly to her chest.

"What were you really going to say?" she asked.

Hans grinned.

"Are you trying to keep me undressed, Your Highness? Like what you see?" was his reply.

Elsa climbed out of his lap and tossed him his shirt.

"Forget it," she said, her heart sinking. He really was incapable of being open with her, she realized. She felt a tightness in her throat. She would never be able to trust Hans, and that meant that she would have to leave him and his life in the hands of his parents. Not that she ever thought for even a second that she and Hans could ever be more than just two people thrown into an abysmal situation together, but she thought… Okay, maybe she thought they could be more. Not for a second. Maybe half a second. But it was hopeless.

Elsa climbed off the bed and smoothed out the bodice and skirt of her dress. Dodging the lower-hanging icicles, she made her way briskly to the bedroom doors, not sure what she'd be able to accomplish there. Hans slipped his shirt back on and followed her, less successfully managing to miss the icicles due to his height.

"Elsa, I was just kidding. Come on," he laughed, making a grab for her arm. She jerked away from him.

"Don't touch me," she snapped. Hans' eyes widened as though she'd struck his heart again. Recovering quickly, Hans' eyes narrowed angrily and his jaw tightened. His hand closed around her wrist as he spun her around to face him. Raising her free arm, she slapped him hard across the face.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Hans shouted, tightening his hold on her wrist. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking control," she hissed. "As per your suggestion."

"You're putting up walls," he bit back. "It's hardly the same thing."

Elsa turned her back on him, wiping away the welling of tears in her eyes with one of her sleeves before he could see them. Hans yanked her back in his direction again.

"Don't ignore me!" he shouted, eyes shining with tears of his own. Elsa stared at him. A wind picked up and snow began to whirl around them, but she hardly noticed. All she knew was the pain on Hans' face, his kiss-swollen lips parted as he sought to catch his breath. All she knew was that she was the cause of that pain.

"Hans…" she whispered.

_You were shut out…_

"Please…" he pleaded with her hoarsely.

…_and I was shut in._

Slowly, silently, Elsa reached for Hans. She drew her arms around him and pulled him close to her.

"I won't. I promise," she said gently.

Hans rested his chin against the top of her head. Elsa closed her eyes and surrendered herself again to the feeling of holding him and being held in return. She would deal with the consequences of using Hans as a source of strength later. Right now she needed him. She tilted her head up to look at him.

"You know, you can't trust me as far as you can throw me," Hans said. She was beginning to understand his ebb and flow. Just when he started looking and sounding like a sensitive man with a soul, he'd tuck it behind an arrogant grin and an air of overconfidence.

_Very well_, she thought, blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

Elsa arched an eyebrow and smiled. "You know, I could conjure up a snow monster that could throw you clear across the fjord and back to Arendelle with a snap of my fingers."

Hans chuckled throatily. "Is that right?"

His fingers followed the line of buttons down the back of her dress. The shiver that aroused her more than frightened her now took hold of her. His hand rested at the base of her spine and he began to walk her backwards towards the door.

"That's right," Elsa said, the faintest tremble still in her voice. "Is that what you'd call taking control?"

Hans nodded, "I'd say so. But I have experience fighting snow monsters. I'm sure I'd be able to best it. I'm very good with a sword."

"If memory serves me, you aren't as good with a sword as you'd like to think," she replied, gasping a little when she felt her back making contact with the doors. She boldly raised her chin and met his eyes, her heart pounding a mile a minute. She didn't like thinking about what he'd done in Arendelle, but she liked showing him her strength, that she wasn't afraid of him, and she suspected he liked seeing that, too.

Hans stood with his hips flush against the slight curve of her belly, his hardness pressing into her. He remained perfectly poker-faced throughout their back and forth, in no hurry to rush their conversation.

"Well, you know what they say – if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself. Sometimes taking control means getting your hands a little dirty." Hans leaned over so that his forehead was touching hers. His pupils were dilated, and his breath started coming a little faster. She gripped the hem of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

"If I must," she said with mock reluctance. She slipped her hand beneath his shirt, thrilling at the feel of his of stomach muscles clenching beneath her light touch.

"Hans?"

"Yes, Your Grace?"

Elsa clasped her hands behind her back. She leaned against the door, smiling coquettishly.

"Take off your shirt."

Hans grinned. He made a move to pull his shirt off over his head.

"Stop," Elsa said. Hans paused, arms in the air, looking at her curiously. "Use the buttons," she instructed.

He pulled the shirt back down around his waist. He reached up and slowly started unbuttoning it, a proud little smirk on his face.

"As you wish," he replied, bowing ever-so-slightly.

Biting her lip, Elsa decided that she could get used to this control thing.


	12. The Mind in Matters of the Heart

So.

I hope you've been enjoying the story thus far. As usual, thanks so much for all the wonderful feedback you've been giving me. It really makes writing this a pleasure, as I wasn't sure how I'd fare outside of my usual fandom, so thank you so very much for that. Question for you – I've noticed that a lot of writers will end off with a little sneak-peek of what's coming up in the next chapter. I don't tend to do that, but I've been wondering if I should. Does it matter? Opinions welcome.

Take good care of yourselves, okay?

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 12  
**THE MIND IN AFFAIRS OF THE HEART

_Calm yourself, control yourself._

Elsa turned her back to Hans, leaning her cheek against the chamber doors, and let out a long, shaky breath as Hans plucked button after button open along the length of her dress. His cool hands slid beneath the heavy cotton fabric and cupped her shoulders. He slowly peeled her bodice apart like the skin of a fruit, baring much of her back and corset to him. The tips of his fingers traced the trail his lips left almost reverently on her skin from one shoulder to the other. Elsa reached up behind her head and, with both hands, scooped up her long, white hair, holding it aloft to grant Hans better access, showing off the lines of her long, elegant neck and slender arms in the process. Elsa shivered, fighting the deeply ingrained inclination to curl in on herself or cross her arms when she felt eyes lingering on her for too long, as Hans' eyes were doing just then.

He was quiet and perfectly still for so long that she began to worry that she'd been too brazen, and that perhaps it had put him off. She peered back over one shoulder, gnawing nervously on her bottom lip. Hans had taken a considerable amount of footfalls away from her. Elsa let her hair back down around her shoulders. Mortified, she pulled her sleeves over her shoulders and crossed her arms, turning the expanse of porcelain skin that seemed to offend Hans so much towards the chamber doors. Fully facing him now, she was confronted with the unsettling sight of Hans standing clear across the room, wide-eyed, lower lip trembling, and arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"Hans?" Elsa called to him slowly. When he looked up at her, it was as though he'd just returned to her from another world.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. Worried, Elsa took a few steps towards him but he started shaking his head. "Please don't come any closer."

"Hans, tell me what's wrong."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Respecting his wishes, she stayed put, concern etched on her face. Hans buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

"Did I…?" Elsa's face flushed. She squeezed her eyes shut, continuing to hold the front of her dress up with her crossed arms. She felt so stupid standing there with no way to button it up. If an icicle fell and cracked her skull open just then, she wouldn't be sorry. "Did I do something wrong?"

Hans' gaze softened and the ghost of a smile lit a fire in the pit of Elsa's stomach.

"Of course you didn't."

"I must have done something. We were…and then we weren't," she stuttered.

"It was your neck," he said, the tears in his eyes shimmering like river stones.

"I don't understand," she said, bringing her hand to her throat. "What about my neck?"

Once the words were out of her mouth, though, she understood. Her jaw dropped just the tiniest bit. As if Hans had read her mind, he gave her short nod. He was remembering that day out on the fjord. They had talked about it so many times, but at no great length or depth, and Elsa preferred it that way. She didn't want to talk about anything just then. All she wanted was for him to kiss her again and never stop, not until they were both dead, which probably wasn't a long way off. There really was no time to waste as far as Elsa was concerned.

"When I saw your neck, I just…You have such a beautiful neck, and I…" Hans stomped his foot in frustration. Elsa noticed the blast of brilliant blue light it left behind beneath his boot but tried not to call too much attention to it by staring. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice quivering. His eyes pleaded with her. "I'm so sorry."

There it was. An apology. The one Hans swore he'd never give her.

Damn his timing.

"I'm sorry, too," she said. She closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Because I can't forgive you."

They stared at each other, wide-eyed and silent.

_We really shouldn't talk. Like, ever._

"I…I'm not ready to forgive you," she clarified.

"I see," he replied, his expression unreadable.

"I…um…Is-is that okay?" she asked, flinching a little. "I mean…are you alright with that?"

Hans' eyebrows shot up in surprise and he broke into a smile. She couldn't help herself – despite her nervousness, she found herself smiling back.

"It's only fair," he began gently. "I'm not ready to tell you I think I'm in…I'm…um..." he uncharacteristically stammered.

Elsa blushed. The freeze coiled itself tightly within her, ready to spring forth at any moment. A tremor moved through her as she tried to keep her powers from getting the better of her. She was certain he was going to say what she thought he was going to say – what he almost said to her when they were sitting together on the bed earlier. It never occurred to Elsa that Hans might have any genuine feelings for her. The only real proof she had that he had ever loved anyone or anything was in that box hidden beneath the floorboards.

"Probably for the best," she replied primly, standing straighter and pulling her shoulders back. She began walking towards him. "Because I'm not sure I'm ready to hear it."

Soon they were standing so close again that she could see nothing beyond him and his dazzling green eyes. It was right where she wanted to be. He leaned into her ear.

"What_ are_ you ready for?" he whispered thickly.

Elsa stood on the tips of her toes, using both hands to pull his head into a fierce kiss. He pulled her body tightly against his, reciprocating the kiss with the same intensity. The snow they stood almost knee-deep in began to rise from the ground and orbit around them. Elsa smiled against Hans' lips as she lightly scraped her fingernails down the length of his chest and stomach. She tugged him towards the bed by the waist of his trousers. He gasped and let out a little laugh at her cheek. How marvellous the experience of not being afraid for the first time in what seemed like forever felt, even if it was probably fleeting.

She was starving and exhausted, and at her wit's end with worry over what might come to Arendelle as a result of her egregious error in judgment coming to this kingdom alone. She knew it wouldn't be the last mistake she'd make. She'd fallen in love with the one person in the world she had no business falling in love with, and over the course of only a few hours - after giving Anna such a hard time for having once done the same, no less. With the same man. And that was _before_ he had left her to die and tried to chop off Elsa's head.

But the one thing Elsa was sure of just then, the only thing that mattered as far as she was concerned, was that she needed Hans. She would wrench what little control she could in these dire circumstances. She would wrench it out of Hans.

They handled each other a lot rougher this time around. Hans rather impatiently yanked the bodice of Elsa's dress down around her elbows, practically pulling her arms out of the sleeves himself. She was just as eager to rid herself of the dress as he was. The sound of fabric tearing gave Hans just a second of pause, but it could have been a whistle in a windstorm for all Elsa knew. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears – she could hear little else.

Once the dress was in a bundle on the floor, Hans sat down on the side of the bed. Elsa shimmied out of her petticoat and kicked off her shoes. Hans pulled her towards him so she could stand between his legs. He turned her around slowly, sucking in his breath. One hand ran up the back of her corset.

"This looks like it's going to be complicated," he said. Elsa looked back over her shoulder at him to read his expression. He smiled at her. "But worth the trouble."

Elsa exhaled, returning his smile with a small one of her own.

She wondered if he'd ever seen a woman undressed this way before, or if his measured, breathless exploration of her body was because it was her he was seeing undressed. If he was nervous, he certainly wasn't showing it. His hands on her body were steady. He toyed with the hem of her drawers, and, before she was ready for it, he latched on to one of her nipples with his teeth through the thin fabric of her chemise. She cried out in pain, then drove her hands into his hair and pulled his head closer, wordlessly encouraging him to do it again. How something that hurt so much could feel so good she couldn't quite explain. She climbed into his lap and straddled him, placing a hand over the mark on his chest and delivering an icy jolt to it. He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"Minx," he growled against her breast.

He kissed the long, white neck he had called beautiful, then cradled the weight of her white hair in his hand, weaving it through his fingers before closing his fist around it and using it to pull her head back. He decorated her throat and collarbone with exquisite, open-mouthed kisses that left her feeling so weak, if he wasn't holding her up she would have ended up a pile of useless limbs on the floor. He was hard, and this time Elsa was able to recognize it for what it was, and how they could mutually benefit from it. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, rocking against his erection, setting a rhythm for Hans to fall into. He pulled her down to increase the friction between them, and Elsa moaned his name. He kissed her ferociously, his lust for blood finally being put to good use as he snagged her bottom lip between his teeth and buried his nails into the flesh of her naked thighs. Elsa kissed him back with equal ardour, tasting blood – hers, or maybe his. She pulled away from him and he leaned back on his hands to watch her unfastening his trousers and undergarments with trembling hands.

"What are you thinking right now?" Hans asked her hoarsely.

"I'm not," Elsa admitted coyly, bravely slipping her hand into the opening of his trousers and grazing the as of yet unexplored appendage beneath it with curious fingers. Hans' breathing hitched and Elsa felt so incredibly powerful just then. She squeezed him - _hard_ – and sucked very slowly and deliberately on the tip of his tongue. Hans groaned and grasped her around the waist, practically throwing her down on the bed beside him, then rolling on top of her. He hooked his thumbs into the waist of her drawers and tugged them roughly down her stockinged legs. Elsa yanked his trousers down around his hips and kicked the drawers around her ankles off her feet.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Hans asked, settling very solidly between her thighs. In response, Elsa closed her eyes and, lifting her head, kissed him softly. For several long, luscious moments, they exchanged kisses and nothing more. She forgot who she was, who he was, where they were, the circumstances that brought them together, and those that would ultimately tear them apart. It was bliss edged in black, but Elsa greedily pocketed every single detail of it. There would be plenty of time for harsh realities later.

He began to push into her slowly, gently instructing her to relax, to breathe deeply. He asked her if he was hurting her, to which her answer was a simple shaking of her head. She was beginning to feel a little lightheaded, regretting being in too much of a hurry to be with Hans to let him unlace her corset. Her heart was hammering against her ribs. He continued to move forward inside of her, and she began to worry that there might be too much 'him' and not enough 'her' to accommodate his full length. Tears sprang to her eyes and Hans kissed them away.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Please, no," she whispered. "Don't stop."

Hans looked unsure, but he slowly began to move inside her. Elsa wrapped her legs around his waist and arched her back. "Don't stop," she said again, this time with enough conviction to make it sound more like the command she wanted it to be rather than a mere request. The feelings of discomfort had almost all but vanished, an incredible feeling of rapture taking its place. He was no longer a foreign entity invading her body – he was a part of her now.

"I won't," he said thickly, a conceited little smile on his face. "Not until you beg me to."

Elsa was about to laugh at his arrogance when he suddenly thrust into her with so much force that she saw stars. She cried out his name and dug her nails into his pelvis. He kissed her hungrily, absorbing any other noises she might have made with his clever mouth, driving into her harder and faster. She encouraged him to slow his pace with a firm hand on the small of his back, summoning him back from a feral edge. Their coupling balanced precariously between agony and ecstasy, and she wanted to do her best to keep the scales from tipping one way or the other, at least for now. But she couldn't deny that she loved seeing him undone this way.

"I'm sorry," he panted. Elsa began moving her hips in circles around his length. "God, that feels good," he chuckled breathlessly. The impish grin that accompanied it set her heart racing. She reached up and held his face between two trembling hands, unsure whether or not she was about to make a huge mistake.

"I promise you'll never be alone again, Hans," she said, pressing her forehead to his. Hans pulled back to look her in the eye, mouth agape, breathing heavily.

"You don't mean that," he whispered, eyes suddenly filled with an immeasurable sadness. Elsa stroked his hair, gazing into his eyes earnestly.

"I swear it," she insisted.

Hans' shook his head. A tear traveled alongside the bridge of his nose that Elsa wiped away softly with icy fingers, leaving a faint trail of frost and lace behind them.

"A hell of a time for you to tell me that," he said, sniffling.

Elsa frowned and bit her lip.

"I'm sorry. I know it came out of nowhere, but I just…I needed to say it. Did I just ruin everything?"

Hans cupped her cheek and smiled, running his thumb across her bottom lip.

"Impossible, Your Grace. I think you just made it better," he whispered. He kissed her with more tenderness than her heart could bear. She kissed him back, whimpering when she felt him stirring inside her. It wasn't long before he was filling her completely again. She hooked her ankles behind him and held him around his shoulders. He slipped an arm under and around her hips, using it to change the angle of his thrusts just enough so that he struck a spot deep inside her that launched Elsa's body into a frenzy. She bucked against him, the combination of euphoria and unexpectedness stealing her breath from her, and for a few seconds, she panicked that she'd never get it back. Soft grunts of effort spilled from Hans' lips as he continued to drive himself into her. The sound of his voice kept her grounded; reminding her that she was tethered to something - something safe. She relaxed and acquiesced to the pleasure his body was giving hers, barely recognizing her own voice as she begged him to drive into her harder.

He did.

She felt herself tightening around him, the entire lower half of her body tensing, her legs practically a vice around his back as she arrived none-too-gently at her completion. Within a few short thrusts, he was right by her side, Elsa's name on his lips. Her legs went lax, releasing him from their binding. Once his arms gave out, he dropped down beside her on the bed.

His fingers reached across for hers.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," Elsa nodded, even though his eyes were closed and he couldn't see it. "Are you?"

"Mm-hm," he murmured. He gave her fingers a squeeze. "Had you…?"

"Done that before?"

"Yes."

"Of course not," she said indignantly. Her eyes darted in his direction. "Had you?"

Hans shook his head. "No."

Elsa's eyes widened with surprise. "Really? But you –"

"Seemed to know what I was doing? Remember what I told you? You take control, whether you think you're capable of handling it or not."

Elsa and Hans lay silently side by side for a while, catching their collective breath, letting what they'd just done sink in. Hans was the first to break that silence.

"I won't hold you to that promise you made," he said quietly.

Elsa sat up and leaned over him, concerned. "What do you mean?"

Hans looked away. "I mean people sometimes say things when they want something from you – things they don't mean. And once they get what they want -"

"Well, then it's a good thing _my_ parents raised _me_ right," she grinned. "I keep my promises."

"Low blow," Hans smirked. He reached up and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back down beside him. "I like it," he growled into her ear. "Do it again."

Elsa stuck her nose up in the air. "Fine. Your lips are too thin."

"Your eyes are too big for your head."

"Your chin is too big for yours."

They both burst into fits of laughter. Elsa ignored the nagging voice in the back of her mind that told her to enjoy these few intimate moments with Hans as much as she could, because they could very well be her last.

_We're getting out of here alive if I have to reduce this palace to a pile of rubble and wood chips_, she thought, nestling against Hans as he reached across the mattress to pull some blankets over them. It was the last thought she had before falling into a heavy, desperately-needed sleep.


	13. Previously Engaged

So.

Thanks so much for your input regarding putting a sneak peek at the end of the each chapter! I really appreciate it! I'm going to give it a try and see how it goes.

Hope life is treating you well! Take good care of yourself!

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 13  
**PREVIOUSLY ENGAGED

"There we are. Now be careful, okay? I'm running out of bandage and extra blades."

Kristoff held his spare whittling knife out to Anna. She reached for it but he pulled it away before she could grab it.

"Anna?"

Anna scowled at him, but he waited patiently for her to say the words he wanted to hear. She'd already somehow managed to nick three fingers on her right hand more than once. She wouldn't have any fingers left if he let her continue to carry on the way she had been.

"Fine. I'll be careful," she finally said, but still he hesitated. Her expression softened. "I will. Promise."

Kristoff gave her back the knife. Anna looked down at the wooden spoon she'd been whittling to get her mind off of Elsa's absence. She and Kristoff had packed a light lunch and gone to the docks. It sounded like a lovely idea when he had suggested it. Once they were at the docks, though, and Kristoff handed her a sandwich, she felt like he might as well have handed her a black cloud to hang over her head. She gazed down past the legs she dangled over the side of the dock at her sullen reflection in the clear waters.

_Stupid sandwiches. Stupid docks. Stupid Hansicidal McManiac._

Elsa had only been gone for four days, but it was still four days. It was the longest Elsa and Anna been apart since the eternal winter. Once Anna had Elsa back in her life permanently, all day and every day, she thought they'd never be apart again. Realistically, Anna understood that, as ruler of Arendelle, Elsa would have to go on the occasional trip, but she had just gotten her back. Why did she have to go away again so soon, and to visit _that man's_ kingdom, of all places?

_Come on, Anna. It's only been four days._

_Four days…and sixteen hours._

The clock in the square chimed and Anna sighed heavily. She picked up the spoon and started working on it again, continuing to use the pull stroke Kristoff taught her. Keeping her promise, she kept her paring methodical and measured.

"Seventeen hours," she mumbled to herself. Kristoff rolled his eyes and smiled. He turned his attention back to his own project. He was much quicker than she was, but still managed to look relaxed as he worked, as if he hadn't a care in the world. He kept his knife sharp, and it would slice through the wood like it was moving through butter. If it was anyone else in the world, Anna would have mistaken their calmness for indifference, but she knew Kristoff. She knew that he loved her, and that he respected and admired her relationship with Elsa. What he was doing just then was being her rock. A regular rock. The kind that didn't turn into a troll.

"Thanks for trying to take my mind off of things," she offered. "I know I've kind of been unbearable since Elsa left."

"I wouldn't say unbearable," he said. "You're worried about your sister. I get it."

"Because _you're_ a love expert now?"

Kristoff chuckled. "No. Because I have eyes."

Anna smiled. She held her wooden spoon up, eyeing it carefully.

"What do you think?" she asked. Kristoff looked up. He nodded.

"It looks great. You're pretty good at this. Think you're ready to try making a bowl?"

"Maybe. I'd like to try carving some sort of design into the handle of this thing first. Would that be hard to do?"

"I'd wait until my fingers healed if I were you. All those bandages will get in the way."

Anna laughed. "I don't know how you can carve anything with those giant paws of yours."

Kristoff smiled. "You'd be surprised what I can get done with these giant paws of mine."

Anna arched her eyebrow at him. "_Pardon me_, sir! You're addressing a princess of Arendelle! That's hardly appropri-"

Kristoff put his knife down and took one of Anna's hands.

"Here," he said quietly, insistently, pressing something into the palm of her hand.

It was a ring with an astoundingly detailed rose sitting on top of it, the entire thing carved from a single piece of blonde wood. Anna stared at it, eyes wide, mouth agape – not exactly the picture of sophistication.

"Say something," Kristoff said uneasily. Anna blinked wordlessly at the ring still in her hand.

"It's…it's really beautiful, but…"

_Is he proposing to me? Is this an engagement ring?_

_We've only been courting for a couple of months. And Elsa would go through the roof if I got engaged twice in less than a year._

"But what?" Kristoff asked. "You don't like it, do you? Geez, I should have gone with the butterfly idea."

"No, Kristoff. It's beautiful. It's perfect. I just…Are you asking me to…?"

Kristoff's eyes widened. "What? N-no! Oh, my God! No!"

Anna frowned, looking at him sulkily. "Okay, Doctor Love. Calm down. I get it."

Kristoff sighed and reached up to scratch the back of his blonde head. "That totally came out wrong. I'm sorry. I just…I wanted to give you something to cheer you up. Something you can look at always to remember how much I…"

"Yes?" she smiled expectantly.

There was no doubt in Anna's mind that Kristoff loved her. He hadn't said it out loud yet, but she knew. How could she not after all they'd been through together? Still, it would be nice to hear it straight from the horse's mouth, as it were, instead of a reindeer and a talking snowman.

Kristoff swallowed audibly. He blushed, and it was just about the most adorable thing Anna thought she'd ever seen.

"…how much I…enjoy your company."

_Damn._

"I enjoy your company, too," she said, reciprocating the sentiment, albeit a little flatly.

To be fair, Anna hadn't told Kristoff she loved him either. After what happened with Hans, she was reluctant to. She did love Kristoff, quite desperately. She couldn't imagine a life going forward without him. But that look on Hans' face, eyes cold and narrow, lips twisted into a sneer, as he broke her heart, and revelling in it, no less…No. Anna wasn't going to say it first. Never again.

Kristoff took Anna's hand back. He slipped the ring on her finger, brown eyes focused on the task and determined to do it right. He brought her fingers to his lips and lightly blew his warm breath across the petals to remove any remaining bits of wood that might still be clinging to them. Anna shivered.

"I love you," she said dreamily. They both looked up at the same time, eyes locking through Kristoff's blonde bangs. She covered her mouth with both hands, ears starting to burn red with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "I shouldn't have said that."

Kristoff looked at her apprehensively. "You shouldn't have?"

Anna took a deep breath. "I love you, Kristoff. I do. I love you so very much. But how could you take anything I say seriously after everything that's happened?"

"'After everything that's happened' is exactly why I take everything you say seriously, Anna. You made a mistake. Hans had everyone fooled – all of Arendelle."

"I thought I was in love with him the second I laid eyes on him, Kristoff. I agreed to marry him after only a couple of hours. I was willing to throw my relationship with Elsa away when all she was trying to do was save me from myself. Elsa never would have made such stupid mistakes –"

Kristoff took both her shoulders in his hands and leaned over to look her in the eye. She turned her head, too ashamed to look back at him, but he gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

"Come on, Anna. You aren't Elsa, okay? Maybe she wouldn't make the same mistakes, but so what? You love with your whole heart. You're trusting and warm, loyal, passionate and brave. That's why_ I_ love _you_, Anna," he said, smiling shyly. Anna's eyes lit up. Her heart skipped a beat, then two more.

"You do, don't you?" she said, cupping his cheek with her small hand, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his eyes. Kristoff nodded.

"I've been afraid to say it. I thought it might scare you away."

Anna threw her arms around Kristoff. "Not a chance," she whispered. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. "I wish I'd never met him. He's gone but not gone. You know what I mean? He's like chickenpox. You manage to survive the chickenpox, but all the scratching's left you covered with oozing scabs and ugly scars."

"Well, it's safe to say that lunch is officially over now," he said, nose crinkling in disgust. "Listen, I don't want to shake the guy's hand or anything, but if it wasn't for him, your sister would still be walking on –"

"Thin ice?" Anna offered.

"Walking on _eggshells_ trying to keep her powers a secret. She'd still be shutting herself up in her room at the end of the day, suffering in silence. You wouldn't know how much she loves you, and she'd never know how much you love her. Olaf would be a puddle under a tree somewhere. And, of course," Kristoff wagged his eyebrows at her and grinned, "if it wasn't for Prince Chickenpox of the Oozing Scabs, our paths would probably have never crossed."

"So we owe him a debt of gratitude, is what you're saying?" Anna scoffed.

"I wouldn't worry. I'm sure he's out there somewhere getting just what he deserves as we speak," Kristoff replied, putting his arm around her and pulling her closer to him along the dock. Anna leaned her head against his broad chest and laughed.

"Good." she said, blue eyes twinkling wickedly.

* * *

_Next Chapter: Hans takes a stab at getting what he deserves. Elsa goes through the roof. Anna develops her own superpower – woman's intuition._


	14. Descent

So.

I hope July is treating you well.

I have to say, the Helsa fandom kicks so much ass. Am I wrong? On Tumblr I see the best fanart, fanfiction, edits, playlists... What an amazingly imaginative group. I hope my contribution measures up to the immense talent I've been treated to out there on the interwebz.

I may have to put together a Helsa playlist, too. I can't let you guys have all the fun.

Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, favouriting, following, et cetera. Crossing my fingers for a (mostly) typo and grammar nightmare-free chapter!

Take good care!

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 14  
**DESCENT

Anna cinched the waist of her robe tighter around herself as she ran to the throne room. She was sure Elsa would have frowned on her leaving her bed chambers in the middle of the night half-dressed, but Anna was far too alarmed just then to worry about things like researching and adhering to middle-of-the-night dress protocol. Gerda had woken her up to tell her that a man from the Southern Isles desperately needed to speak to her. He had information about the queen and was refusing to elaborate to anyone but Princess Anna herself.

"I knew something would happen. I knew I shouldn't have let her go alone. If anything's happened to her…"

Anna was out of breath by the time she reached the throne room. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a charcoal frockcoat sporting a grey, German goatee, and spectacles, greeted Anna with a deep bow as she came to a wobbly stop, just mere steps short of bowling him over.

"Your Gra—"

"No time," Anna wheezed, waving away the formalities. "What news have you of my sister?"

The gentleman straightened. "Princess Anna, I have reason to believe your sister is in danger."

Anna's heart leapt to her throat. "What's happened to her?"

"I believe she's being held against her will somewhere in the Westergård's main residence in the capital."

"Against her will…?" Anna repeated weakly, beginning to feel as though she might vomit. "How do you know this?"

Looking ashamed, the man shook his head. "I'm sorry, Your Grace. I may have played a small part in setting the wheels in motion. You see, I am in the employ of King Enoch and Queen Alma. I have been tending to their youngest son –"

Anna clenched her fists. "Hans," she growled. "Of course he has something to do with this."

"He asked me to deliver a letter to Queen Elsa, and –"

That letter Elsa was obsessing over. That stupid letter.

_I should have thrown it out when I had the chance._

"- he offered me payment to make sure it got to her without any interception."

"What does that mean? Why would he have to offer you payment if you're employed by the royal family?"

"While Hans serves out his sentence he is not to receive any of the privileges granted members of the royal family. I've tended to His Majesty for years now - since he was a boy - and I suppose my heart was weak with sentiment when he asked me for the favour. I couldn't say no. But I've heard rumblings that Queen Elsa hasn't been spotted on the palace grounds for two days now. It appears she may have vanished not long after a servant claimed to overhear her requesting a visit with Prince Hans."

_What was Elsa thinking?_ Anna groaned inwardly. _She's supposed to be the older, wiser one._

"Your Grace, I beg your forgiveness. I never would have agreed to deliver that letter had I known –"

Anna's gaze softened. "It isn't your fault. How could you have known this would happen? All you did was deliver a letter."

_If Hans touches one hair on my sister's head, I'm going to flay him alive._

"Nonetheless, Your Grace…I want to give you these," he reached into the small leather messenger bag hanging at his side. "It makes me sick to look at them now."

With shaking hands he handed her a naval spyglass and a man's wedding band wrapped in a satin handkerchief. Puzzled, Anna took them from him.

"I…um…okay. Thanks, I think," she said, looking through the old spyglass. "What are these for exactly?"

"Forgive me, Your Grace. Prince Hans gave them to me as payment for delivering the letter."

"Sir, how may I address you?" Anna asked kindly.

"Emerens, Your Grace. Emerens Hadewych."

_There's no way I'm going to remember that._

"Mr. Hadewych, I can't thank you enough for coming to me with this information. If there's anything I can do for you to express my gratitude, please don't hesitate to ask."

He bowed deeply. "There is one thing – I have a wife, two daughters and a son still living in the capital. I am not so sure they are safe there anymore. If we could seek asylum in Arendelle –"

Anna's eyes widened. "Oh! Of course! I'll have them sent for and escorted here at once. You are welcome to stay with your family in Arendelle as long as you wish. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must bid you goodnight, Mr. Sandwich."

"Hadewych, Your Grace."

"Oh…Right. I'm so sorry. Mr. Hadewych. Of course," she stammered, feeling like a complete idiot.

Anna left Mr. Hadewych in Kai's capable hands. The second she was out of their sight, she buried her face in her hands and slid against the wall to the floor, bringing her knees up to her chin.

"Elsa," she moaned. "If anything happens to you…"

**oooOOOOooo**

The light spray of freckles that peppered Hans' face extended over his shoulders and down his back, eventually fading into the pallor of his skin as Elsa walked her fingertips along his spine to the waist of his trousers, which were still slung around his hips, as he slept. She could kiss every one of those freckles, she thought sadly, but there wouldn't be any time. They had pushed their luck far enough – Elsa had to figure out a way out of that room now, and the odds that she and Hans would ever be able to lie together like this again had been stacked up against them since long before his lips first touched hers.

She had no intention of breaking her promise to Hans. She would escape with him in tow, ensure that his parents could never harm him again, and find a home for him – somewhere he could start over, maybe marry and raise a family of his own. He would never have to be alone. He could love someone now. She was sure of it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, head and heart throbbing uncomfortably. _No_, she thought. _That won't do._

_But Anna…_

Anna would never forgive Elsa for bringing Hans back to Arendelle. Anna wouldn't understand, and how could Elsa expect her to when she herself didn't understand? Her sister was almost killed saving Elsa's life from Hans. Elsa almost lost her head, but her sister had lost her heart to him.

_I may have, too._

She took a deep breath and gave her head a sobering shake before shimmying back into her drawers. She climbed off the bed and yanked her dress out from under a snowdrift, frowning as she noticed all the torn seams in the sleeves and bodice. She and Hans had really done a number on the dress when they tag-teamed it to get it off of her, which felt incredible in the moment but wasn't such a good idea in hindsight. She laid Hans' shirt, waistcoat and jacket out on the bed beside him, turning each item of clothing over, studying them from front to back, top to bottom.

"Okay," she whispered. "Here we go."

With renewed focus and determination, and no longer at odds with her powers, Elsa summoned the freeze. Fine electric blue threads wound themselves around her, over her corset, drawers and chemise, weaving together and settling against her skin. Trousers, a shirt, waistcoat and jacket, not dissimilar to those Hans had been wearing, in varying shades of pale blue and silver. The boots were a little tricky, but the freeze didn't let her down. She decided a dress and mules wouldn't be all that practical during an escape effort. She also relished the idea of wearing something she'd otherwise never be allowed to wear. She was doing all sorts of things she shouldn't have been doing, and despite the dire circumstances and the guilt she knew would come later, she loved the freedom, even if that freedom was limited to this one room.

She left her hair alone, continuing to let it hang like wisteria around her face and down her back. It made her feel powerful – like a woman in perfect harmony with her surroundings, with herself.

She walked towards the window, raising an arm to command a frigid gust of wind that effortlessly pushed several feet of snow off to one side. She retrieved Hans' collection of keepsakes from beneath the floorboards, quickly weaving herself a satchel to stash it in, and slinging it over her shoulder.

Elsa approached the bed slowly, smiling softly as she watched Hans sleeping. Beautiful, flawed, dangerous, and hers for as long as fate would allow it. A painful lump grew in her throat and she blinked tears from her eyes. She let out a shaky sigh and stroked his hair. She climbed up beside him and leaned over to kiss the nape of his neck.

"Hans," she whispered, nudging him a little. "Hans, it's time to go."

He moaned and stretched before finally rolling over and opening his eyes. The glow from the snowflake on his chest grew brighter as his green eyes focused on her blue ones.

"Hey," he croaked.

Elsa smiled. "Hey. Sleep well?"

Hans nodded, "And woke up well. You're still here."

"I told you I wouldn't leave you behind," she said, smiling warmly. "Still don't believe me?"

Hans chuckled, "Would you believe me if_ I_ said it?"

"No," Elsa answered honestly. "But then I don't have your track record for lying."

"I'm sure it'll take endless hours of convincing you, but you're a wise woman, Queen Elsa Riborg Voigt of Arendelle."

"I can't believe you remember all of that."

"It's your name. Of course I remember it."

"You must have read my letter a dozen times," she said, touched and a little awestruck.

"Maybe once or twice," he replied, looking somewhat embarrassed. "You put more of yourself in that letter than I'm sure you intended to. I'll deny it if anyone ever asks me, but your letter was…it was good company."

"I'll deny it if anyone ever asks _me_, but I felt the same way about your letter, Prince Hans Westergård of the Southern Isles," she admitted shyly to both Hans and herself.

"I think it's just Hans now," he said wistfully.

"You'll never be 'just Hans'," Elsa answered gently.

Hans smiled, toying with a rope of her white hair. "No?"

"Not to me," she said softly. Thrown by her unexpected candidness, her eyes widened and a blush rose to her cheeks. "Um…I mean –"

"I know what you mean," Hans whispered back, pulling her down beside him and pressing his lips to hers. She closed her eyes and held him close for a moment that flew by far too quickly. She reluctantly pulled away from him, reaching across the bed for his clothes. She tossed them to him and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress.

"You should get dressed. I'm getting us out of here," she said over her shoulder. She tugged at the legs of her boots and smoothed out her jacket.

"We're getting out? How? God, how long have I been asleep?" He quickly buttoned up his shirt and pulled his braces over his shoulders. "And, speaking of getting dressed, what are you wearing?"

_Oh, God…_

"My dress is torn," she explained awkwardly, "and I thought I should maybe put on something a little easier to move in. So I made -"

"You _made_ all that? Like, out of ice? How?"

"The same way I make everything," she said, pleased he seemed so enamoured by her skill. "I think it, and it just…I don't know. It just happens."

Hans finished dressing then approached Elsa for a closer look.

"You just think it?"

"Mm-hmm. I mean I can't make just _anything_. I have to understand the basics of it. I was able to build a palace because I live in one. I know what they look like. I know what keeps them from falling down. I can't say the same about chandeliers."

Hans let that go.

"So if I asked you to make an apple…?"

With a flick of her wrist, Elsa easily created an apple and stem from ice. She tossed it to Hans, who caught it with both his hands. He looked at it with wide-eyed wonder.

"Okay, show-off. What if I asked you to make a Jack Snipe?"

Elsa eyed him carefully, not entirely sure he hadn't just made that up. "Is that a drink?"

"It's a bird. A wader."

"I can make a seagull, or a swan or a duck. Maybe a goose. I don't know if I've ever seen a Jack Snipe. If you described it to me or showed me a sketch or a painting of one, I could probably do it."

Elsa noticed Hans staring at her and immediately felt self-conscious.

"Hans?"

"Hm?" He looked up at her as though he'd just come out of a trance.

"I know wearing men's clothing is probably a huge, royal fashion no-no, but – "

Hans shook his head. "I'm sorry. I was staring. It's just…you just look really –"

"Silly?" Elsa offered, frowning.

"I was going to say you look beautiful."

"Don't you mean 'handsome'?" she asked, thinking he might just be teasing her.

"No," he said seriously. "I mean beautiful. You look beautiful. I mean you _are_ beautiful."

"Oh," Elsa gasped, her small mouth gaping open with surprise. "Thank you."

"If I may make a suggestion, though, as someone who's been wearing men's clothing just a little longer than Your Highness…" Hans slowly drew his tie from around his neck. He stepped up to Elsa, looping the silk piece of stiff, white fabric around her long, elegant throat. He carefully tied it and tucked the ends into the collar of her waistcoat. Elsa closed her eyes and parted her lips, almost able to taste his scent in every breath she took. The icy tip of his tongue lightly touched the shell of her ear as he whispered, "There", sending shivers down her spine.

"Perfect," he announced, standing back and admiring his addition to her ensemble. Elsa smiled, touching his gift to her daintily with cool fingertips. "Now we're ready to go."

Elsa explained her plan to Hans.

"The door and window are both out, obviously. Those are being protected. Nothing seems to stick to them for long. But look at the icicles on the ceiling."

Hans looked up. "So you think we can escape through the ceiling? I don't know where it goes, though. I have no idea what's above it. We could end up climbing through one prison cell right into another."

She wasn't sure Hans was going to like what she was going to say next.

"We wouldn't be climbing through the ceiling. I'd raise a staircase that would plow right through it. Right until we hit sky."

Hans looked positively bewildered. "Okay," he began carefully. "So you're saying…"

"If it works, it's going to do some major damage. Your family will be hard-pressed to explain away what happened. I don't think you'll ever be able to come back. And, as queen, I can't keep what your parents have done to me to myself. Your crimes in Arendelle will no doubt become public knowledge, as well as any other skeletons hiding in your family's closet. Hans…"

"Yes?" Hans asked, looking even paler than usual.

"Do you know who or what is behind the force keeping us in here? Could your parents have employed someone to perform some sort of magic or conjure up some sort of curse? Or could one of them be –" Elsa bit her lip and nervously started fretting with the handle of the satchel hanging at her side. "God, I just don't understand why your family would do this to you."

"I don't know how or why this is all happening. I know my family hates me. They always have. I couldn't tell you why." Hans said, his voice shaking a little. "Okay, that's not true. I know why." He ran an agitated hand through his red hair and cursed under his breath.

Annoyed, Elsa crossed her arms and sighed. "Listen, Hans – I usually enjoy our friendly banter over your being a deceitful creep, but this is serious. If you want to lie about your age, waistline or height, fine. But if one of your parents is a warlock, a sorceress, a unicorn, or a closeted troll, you need to tell me. I need to know what we're up against. We've wasted so much time. We honestly should have started trying to figure all this out hours ago."

Hans looked hurt. "You really think all we've been doing is wasting time?"

Elsa's countenance softened. "Of course I don't, Hans. Come on, now. You know what I me-" Elsa paused, eyeing Hans carefully. Under closer scrutiny, his eyes began to dart from side to side. She clenched her fists. "Hans, you're doing this on purpose. You're stalling."

Hans shrugged his shoulders, grinning sheepishly. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Listen, I can't explain the magic. We'll get that out of the way first."

"Fine," Elsa snapped. "And why does your family hate you?"

Hans squeezed his eyes shut, and his ears turned almost as red as his hair. A rush of words left his mouth, too fast for her to catch a single one of them. Elsa waved her hands in front of her, frantically signalling him to stop.

"Not so fast, Hans!" she shouted. Hans raised a suggestive eyebrow and smirked at her. Before he could open his mouth, Elsa held up her finger. "And don't try to distract me again by making a joke about the…you and I…on the bed stuff," she fumbled.

Out of stalling tactics, Hans started talking. His body language changed entirely. His eyes grew dark and his shoulders drooped.

"I blackmailed my parents into sending me to Arendelle for your coronation."

Elsa blinked. "I'm sorry - _what?_"

"My brothers Klaus and Franz were supposed to go. They're the oldest unmarried sons. I blackmailed my parents into letting me go alone in Klaus and Franz's place."

Elsa rolled her eyes. "You mean right now I could have been planning my wedding to Prince Klaus or Prince Franz of the Southern Isles?"

Hans scowled. Elsa's stomach did a joyous little flip. He was jealous.

"You wouldn't have liked either of them," he said rather glibly.

"I had dinner with them, remember? They're both very handsome. And charming," she said. "And we got through several courses without either one of them trying to kill me."

"Be that as it may," Hans began, trying not to look threatened by tossing his chin haughtily, "Klaus is a total mouth-breather. And I've seen Franz pick his nose and eat it."

Elsa shuddered. "Okay, enough about the Southern Isles' most eligible bachelors. Is the blackmail the reason your parents locked you up in here instead of having you arrested and tried?"

"They locked me in here because I still know what I know. If they had thrown me into a cell and then tried to drag me through a trial, I would have screamed it to the high heavens. It's easier for them to keep an eye on me in here."

"So I'm shut up in here with you because they're afraid you've told me what you know and they think that, like their conniving son, I'm going to try to blackmail them, too?"

"I had leverage before I went to Arendelle. I have none now. I know their dirty little secrets, and they know mine. But then you showed up and -"

Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. A muscle in her jaw started to tick. "Were your parents even planning on having you executed?" she demanded to know, her voice drawn and hoarse. "Or am I shut up in here with you, leaving my kingdom without a ruler, because you blackmailed your own parents, _you despicable little worm_?"

"This is no time for foreplay, Elsa." Hans replied sarcastically, his eyes narrowing dauntingly despite the casual tone in his voice.

Elsa was furious. "We're not talking about tennis right now, Hans! Do you understand what you've done? All this time I thought your parents had stashed you in here so they could cover up having you unjustly executed. I thought you were the victim in all of this! I was on your side, dammit!"

"That language is very unbecoming of a young queen," he replied, still trying to engage her in a game she was no longer in any mood to play.

"Oh, _shut up_!" she spat venomously. Hans winced like she'd slapped him. "Everything that's happened between us has been a lie! _Everythin_g!"

"Elsa –" Hans started hoarsely, reaching for her arm. She jerked away from him.

"How could I let you do this to us again? I must have been out of my mind! I let you _inside me_, you monster, inside my body, my heart. I stitched you into the very fabric of my soul!" When she finally looked at him again, blue eyes blazing, she no longer recognized him as the man she thought she had fallen in love with. She registered him only as the beast that had told her she had killed her sister that day out on the frozen fjord.

The man who had tried and failed to steal her crown from her.

"I hate you," she hissed.

Hans fell a number of footfalls back, looking shattered. _But what do I know? _she thought jadedly. She could no longer trust her eyes, her ears, her heart…

The man was a catalyst for perpetual misfortune. What kind of a person blackmails his own parents? No wonder they locked him up in here. They were probably trying to contain the emotional trauma he inflicted on everyone who came within a hundred feet of him.

Hans' features clouded over. The snowdrifts crackled and there was electricity hovering in the air around them that Elsa didn't recognize to be her own. She could see the mark on his chest glowing even through his waistcoat and jacket.

Imagine what kind destruction he could cause if he ever managed to tap into the power Elsa had inadvertently bestowed on him.

"My parents - and I use the term 'parents' in the loosest sense possible - have made my life a living nightmare," he snarled. "If they had it their way, I wouldn't have been born. You don't think I've had good reason to want to get as far away from them as possible, away from this whole damn place? Don't embarrass yourself any further by continuing to pontificate on things you know absolutely nothing about, _Your Grace_. You don't know those people, and you don't know _me_."

Elsa shook her head sadly. "No," she replied mournfully. "I guess I don't."

"You should go," Hans muttered bitterly. "Do what whatever you have to do to get out of here, even if it means tearing this place apart brick by brick. Just be careful not to tumble into the hell this palace was built on. Go and don't look back."

Elsa, tears in her eyes, realized that Hans was right. She needed to leave him here and never look back. He was perfidious and volatile, and she couldn't trust him. Her first instinct had been the correct one. The cold fist clutching her heart yanked the organ with little mercy.

_I have to do this. I have to go. For Anna, for Arendelle, I have to leave all of this behind me._

"Here," Elsa murmured, removing the satchel containing the wooden box from over her shoulder and handing it to him. Hans looked like he was going to be sick, but he took the satchel from her, dropping it behind him on the bed. They avoided looking into each other's eyes, Hans staring upwards and Elsa gazing down at her boots.

"You should find somewhere safe to stand, at least. The ceiling will fall to pieces. Maybe you could –"

"I appreciate your concern, but you need not worry about me, Your Grace," he said stonily. He walked across the room to the bench by the window, turning his back to her.

He was done talking. He was done with her.

Elsa knew he wasn't going to protect himself from the destruction. He was going to sit by that window and wait for the ceiling to cave in on him. She did know him, despite letting him believe otherwise only moments ago. She did know him.

She took a deep, trembling breath then stomped her foot with all her might. Snow blew in all directions, and the six points of her snowflake reached quickly across the floor, lighting up every corner of the room. She looked over at Hans who was staring at the window, even though it was impossible to see out of it.

_Hans…please…_

_Please…_ she silently begged him. _Swallow your pride. Save yourself._

She stepped back and slowly raised her arms. A flurry of stars spun at the snowflake's centre. In an explosion of light, they began to fuse together, creating the base of the spiral staircase that would take her out of this place. Elsa hadn't climbed ten steps before the room began to shake violently, and she started to panic. The staircase spiraled higher and higher. It pushed against the rafters, cracking a few beams before Elsa cried out for it to stop.

She felt the floor bowing, heard the sound of floorboards snapping and the wood and plaster beneath them groaning loudly. She hadn't considered that the floor could collapse beneath the weight of the staircase. Building a staircase on a mountain, it turned out, was much different from building a staircase in a bedroom.

_Oh, God…_

_I'm such an idiot. If the ceiling isn't being protected, the floor probably wouldn't be either._

The staircase dipped to one side as it began to sink through the canyon that was beginning to open up beneath it. Elsa gripped the railing with both hands as the structure slipped further through the floor, causing her to lose her footing. Not thinking logically – only that she didn't want to fall – she dashed up the stairs. One of the badly damaged beams above came loose, striking the stairs above her and taking out the railing she'd been desperately clinging to on its way to the ground.

"Elsa!" Hans cried out from somewhere below her. Her eyes finally locked with his. He was standing dangerously close to the pit that was swallowing up the staircase. "Christ, Elsa! Hang on!"

The room quaked again and Hans lost his balance. He started sliding along the splintered floor as it continued to slant and sag. A terrible wind kicked up and started hurling snow, ice and debris in every direction, causing her to lose track of him.

The staircase shifted once more and she was flung down several steps. She held onto what was left of the bit of railing still within her reach while the rest of her dangled over the side. Blinded by snow, dust and tears, she was no longer able to tell which way was up and which way was down.

"Elsa, don't you dare let go!" she heard Hans shout seconds before another falling beam clipped the back of her head.

All at once she was plunged into cool, blissful darkness.


	15. The White Devil

So.

This is the first time I've organized a field trip to the inside of Hans' head. Or at least _this_ Hans. I don't own Hans. I sort of wish I did. I have a doll. Does that count?

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 15**  
THE WHITE DEVIL

Some say living well is the best revenge. Who lives better than a king? Sure, Hans easily could have left the palace, which had always been more like hell than home to him, thumbed his nose at his wretched family and left the Southern Isles behind him at any time. But that would have been giving them exactly what they'd always wanted. If Hans had gone that route, he'd have faded into obscurity as though he'd never existed in the first place. Not a chance. Hans needed to go big or go home.

Of course in the end he ended up going big and still going home.

It wasn't that Hans had felt intentionally misled by Anna, per say. He was surprised by how much he liked Anna initially. She was cute and funny, and Sitron – the horse he had no other choice but to leave behind in Arendelle after his arrest - had taken an immediate liking to her. His breath caught in his throat when she said those two words –

_Just me._

"Just you?" he'd echoed, intrigued.

"Just me," she replied, following it with a sigh and a smile. She was smitten; there was little doubt about that. She was pretty adorable - red hair, much like his own, and a stippling of freckles on her ruddy cheeks. She could easily have passed for a Westergård. Well, except that she was kind of clumsy and talked too much. But her chattiness served his purposes well enough. With every word she spoke, she was giving him hints on what she was looking for in "the one". She was also filling him in on her frigid sister, whom he disliked from the get-go.

"If you'd hit my sister Elsa, it would be – _yeesh!_" Anna had explained in her funny little way after Hans apologized for knocking the wind out of her with poor Sitron.

Little did Hans know at the time that "yeesh!" would be the perfect way to describe Queen Elsa.

She was a little taller than Anna, or maybe it was just the way she carried herself. She was very beautiful. Her skin was smooth and white, as though she'd been carved from marble. Her hair had an ethereal quality to it, even pinned up as tightly as it was. It looked to be the only softness one could attribute to her. When she was still, she was very still, like a cat. He observed that she moved very little, greeting her guests with a short nod, hands clasped in front of her. Even when she walked, she moved effortlessly, gliding, sylph-like, along the floor. When Anna presented him to Elsa, he could feel her eyes stealing into him and he found it intensely unnerving. The hair at the back of his neck stood on end. He decided he had made the right choice in focusing his attention and lavishing his feigned affection on Anna. No one was going to get anywhere with the ice queen. She had too many walls up, and he hadn't the time nor the desire to scale them.

"Elsa, please! _Please!_ I can't live like this!" Anna begged her after she refused to give their marriage her blessing.

"Then_ leave_," came the queen's reply. At the time, Hans couldn't see the hurt in Elsa's eyes. All he saw were the characteristically unfeeling eyes of a Westergård. He couldn't see blue for red. She was no better than any one of his brothers. She'd been shutting Anna out since she was a child, and Hans certainly knew how that felt. Then Anna found someone she believed could make her happy, someone who could make her feel loved, and that callous bitch couldn't even let her have that.

Having that in common with Anna made it so much easier to be "the one".

_Too easy. _

He almost felt bad for taking advantage of her.

_Almost._

But Elsa…

Oh, the sheer contempt he felt for her in that moment. Yes, he would enjoy killing her.

He wondered how Anna had managed to remain so good-natured and so trusting despite her lonely upbringing. How had he become so twisted, so bloodthirsty, and…?

It was because Anna had been loved. She'd been loved so dearly. She told him about her parents, told him about falling asleep and waking up in her mother's arms after a nightmare as a small child, and how her father would tell her stories about mermaids, silly kings, goblins and fickle princesses. It was everything Hans could ever have wished for growing up, and here she was wallowing in self-pity like a pig in mud because her sister stopped building snowmen with her. Resentful feelings of having been misled by Anna strengthened Hans' resolve. He left Anna to die in that room, cold and alone. He never looked back.

He didn't understand at the time that there were many different kinds of loneliness.

He understood so little back then.

Elsa was the one. The kind of one you didn't put quotation marks around. God, he hated her. Hated her and loved her - sometimes in a single heartbeat - certain, at times, that she'd bewitched him somehow. He had cruelly mocked Anna for wanting so desperately to marry him after knowing him for less than a day, and here he was now, never wanting to be without Elsa after spending less than double that amount of time with her. She was his joy. He hardly recognized it for what it was at the time because he'd experienced so little joy in his life before then.

There were things Hans wanted to tell her about himself. He wasn't made entirely of lies and secrets. He studied ornithology as a hobby, could take apart a pocket watch and put it back together in an impressively short amount of time, and poured over plays by Adam Oehlenschläger and John Webster. As a child, he often dreamed of becoming an actor. He would assign roles to his collection of Kriegsspiel miniatures, and have them act out the plays he wrote, sometimes under his bed late at night, and sometimes on the windowsill. As he got older, he began making more and more use of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, reciting monologues and poetry, and singing folksongs to the audience his reflection offered him. When Hans was finally brave enough, he let his grandfather sit in on his performances. His grandfather would clap, his eyes sparkling, skin crinkling as he broke out into the widest smile. He told Hans he had a gift.

"Your gift for deception is what will save you," he had said to him.

Deception? Is that all acting was? Where was the art in that?

His grandfather, observing the puzzled look on the teenaged boy's face, elaborated, but all it served to do was confuse him more. "No matter what happens, no matter how they mistreat you, never let them see. Never let them know they've hurt you, my boy. Learn the part, memorize the lines, wear the costumes and, if you fumble, keep going. It's your only hope for survival once I'm gone."

_Gone? _He'd wondered._ Gone where?_

Less than a year later, his grandfather passed away, and Hans very quickly unravelled the mystery behind his grandfather's cryptic warning. All these years, his grandfather had been his breakwater. Once he was gone, Hans had to abide the brunt of his family's wrath alone.

He learned the part. He memorized the lines. He wore the costumes. The one thing he never did, though, was fumble. He was Prince Hans Lind Westergård of the Southern Isles - the handsome, charming thirteenth son of King Enoch and Queen Alma. Like his brothers before him, he had excellent leadership skills, was an accomplished swordsman, and showed great promise as a military strategist. He returned all his books of poetry, plays, and scientific studies to the palace library, then threw out all his notes and sketches. Because no one would be around any longer to protect the boy he once was, Hans had to pack him up and put him away, too. At least until he could find somewhere safe for the two of them.

Elsa was that somewhere.

Elsa was his someone.

He never got to kiss her goodbye.

She had taken him inside her again and again, her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, her hand over his heart – over the mark on his chest that, as far as he was concerned, made him hers. It was like a second heart beating inside of him, making him even more acutely aware of the presence of the first, pumping a foreign element through his veins that left him starved for more. His body was a conduit for so many different things in those moments that he swiftly lost track of what was what. Love, sex, Elsa, and Elsa's powers – it was almost too much to bear, one heart or two. He could see nothing but bright, blinding white beyond the electric blue of her eyes.

When he was seventeen, he discovered John Wilmot after coming across a collection of his works in the library. The book didn't look much different from any of the other hundreds of books the massive room housed. What caught Hans' attention was the book's spine, which was cracked very conspicuously in three different places. This could only mean one thing – his brothers had found something (or three things in this case) in the book of great interest. When he pulled the book off the shelf, it fell open to the filthiest poem Hans had ever laid eyes on. There were quite a few words in it that he'd never heard or seen before, but they stirred something in him still. The shortest words had the biggest effect on him (double entendre intended) – particularly those that began with 'c' and 'f'.

He'd never had as much of an interest in women as his brothers had demonstrated. He figured that would be something that would come with age. His passion was stirred by his hobbies and interests, and the only things he really lusted after as he matured were his freedom and his family's blood in equal measure.

But he wanted to do things to Elsa, say things to Elsa - some of which started with 'c' and 'f'. As he became increasingly aroused, his head filled with words and pictures he was sure would turn her a whiter shade of pale. Once he was fully-sheathed inside her, however, his mind went blank. All he could see was Elsa. The only word he knew was _Elsa_.

He wished he could have lasted longer. He was sure if he had a little more time to…um…practice, he'd have eventually gotten better at it. He'd always been a fast learner. It was just that the whole thing had been so unexpected. Not just the sex - all of it. He didn't think he'd come to care for her as much as he did. He didn't think she'd ever want anything to do with him, outside of freezing his severed head to keep it fresh just long enough to get it home to display on a pike on the palace grounds, that is.

Now they were right back where they started. Except this time he was in love with her.

So, in reality, this was far, far worse.

He'd lied to her so many times, both before and after he had tried to kill her. And just when she'd admitted there was a chance that she may one day forgive him for his misdeeds, he had to start lying to her again. Elsa was getting too close to his family's secrets, and the only chance he had of ensuring that she was returned to Arendelle unharmed was to convince his parents that she was no threat to the royal family. She couldn't know anything. She had no way of knowing that breaking her heart would be last on the list of terrible things another Westergård could do to her. And if anything happened to her…

He couldn't think about that now. He had to focus.

This would have to be his best performance yet - the performance of a lifetime.

Fitting, he thought wryly, as it was also going to be his last.


	16. Devils' Dealings

So.

It's about 5:20AM and I'm finally on my way to bed for the night...sort of. I really do hope you enjoy this chapter. As usual, I also hope it isn't a huge mess of typos and lousy grammar. Fingers crossed.

As always, don't be afraid to let me know what you think. I always appreciate your reviews and PMs.

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 16**  
DEVILS' DEALINGS

If King Enoch was even a little distraught to see his thirteenth son imprisoned, one would never be able to tell. If Hans' talent for acting was inherited, it was definitely a gift from his father – probably the only gift he ever gave the youngest Westergård. King Enoch looked positively serene as he was let into the cell Hans had been locked in for what he guessed was approximately a day and a half. The window allowed for little light, not enough to be able to tell the difference between night and day, so Hans had to guesstimate how much time had passed based on his beard growth, which was itchy as hell.

Leading up to Elsa's visit, Hans' imprisonment hadn't been much different from his upbringing. He was allowed few luxuries, luxuries that just so happened to be more for the benefit of keeping up appearances than keeping Hans comfortable. He had access to clean, pressed clothes, and a supervised bath every three days, followed by a shave he wasn't permitted to refuse. His ankles would be tied to the legs of the chair, and his arms shackled behind him. The upside to the shave was that Hadewych, his long-time attendant, was the person assigned to the task, most likely because his parents knew that Hans would never hurt the older gentleman if by some miracle the blade ended up in his hands.

For the first few weeks, Hans wondered why his parents didn't just have one of their men drown him in the bathtub, or slit his throat during his shave. For whatever reason they weren't just keeping him alive – they were keeping him healthy and presentable, too. Eventually he assumed that they wanted to tie up some loose ends before having him killed, and to keep the kingdom from suspecting his parents had something to do with his death when the time finally came. Hadewych had hinted to him that the kingdom knew nothing of what had happened in Arendelle, and Hans was sure his parents wanted to keep it that way. One hasty move by the royal family could cause all its skeletons to come tumbling out of the closet. Hans' death had to fall on a day a fair amount of time from the date of his return from Arendelle to keep suspicions low. His parents had certainly put quite a bit of thought and planning into all of this, he thought wryly. And here he thought his family never paid enough attention to him.

King Enoch waited patiently for Hans to emerge from the shadowy corner he'd been standing in. Hans hadn't been able to do much more than stand or pace since he was escorted down to the dungeon and locked up. Heaven knows he could have used the sleep, but he was afraid he'd lose track of important details in his dreams that he'd need to get through this meeting with his father.

He was surprised, not unpleasantly, when Queen Alma stepped out from behind his father's impressive stature. His father hated him, but she hated him more, and almost nothing amused Hans more than making her miserable. He knew that, in turn, she would take it out on his father. Today it wouldn't just be for fun, though. The only way to appease the king's beloved wife would be to deal with his troublemaking son as swiftly as possible, and with her squawking in his ear, he wouldn't be able to think straight. It would serve Hans' purposes greatly.

"Hello, son."

Hans stepped into the square of light the small window cast on the stone floor and bowed deeply with mock dramatics.

"Hello, father. Your Majesty."

"How have you been? It's rather cold in here. Are you warm enough?" his father asked, gesturing for Hans to rise.

"I can't imagine my comfort was of any real concern to you when you booked these accommodations for me, but if you're really interested to know, I haven't noticed the cold," he answered honestly. "Now to what do I owe this visit?"

King Enoch sighed and clasped his hands behind his back. "Son, I believe we're at an impasse."

"I agree," he replied shortly.

"I'm not sure how to move forward. You know too much, and your mother and I –"

Hans' lip curled into a sneer. "If you're referring to the grey, mousey creature hiding behind you right now, you're mistaken."

"Hans…" the king began tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"She is not my mother," Hans spat.

"Thank God for that," Queen Alma snapped, taking several determined footfalls towards Hans before the king grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Don't be stupid," King Enoch hissed at her. "Someone might hear you."

"I am out of patience, Enoch," she warned, narrowing her eyes at her wretched stepson.

"How fares Queen Elsa? Which of these cells have you stashed her in?" Hans asked, ignoring the queen's glare.

His only clues that Elsa was also being held down here was the snow gathering in the corners of his cell, and the growing intensity of the snowflake's glow on his chest. He chose to believe it was a sign that her heart was crying out for his, and that this was his heart's way of returning that call.

"She hasn't yet regained consciousness. She was injured badly. She's in a proper room in the palace being looked after far better than she deserves to be after all the damage she's done," Queen Alma said coolly.

Hans let that last comment slide. "Well, Queen Elsa can hardly be faulted for wanting to get out of that room. She does have a kingdom to run. Really, I think the responsibility for the damage lies with whatever low-rent sorceress you hired to keep her trapped in there. Of course it would only be a matter of time before Queen Elsa would think to try escaping through the ceiling. You're lucky I was quick on my feet. You'd have had a real mess on your hands had I not been able to grab her before she fell through the floor. She might have broken her neck."

By some miracle, Hans was able to get to Elsa before she fell through the hole in the floor, throwing himself under her falling, unconscious body to at least give her something to land on. He wrapped his arms tightly around Elsa's waist and quickly tucked her face beneath his chin. Together they fell - Hans bracing himself for the landing he hoped would come sooner rather than later. To his surprise and relief (once the shock wore off, that is) he found himself quite unharmed with an unconscious Elsa still clutched to his breast. They were lying in a massive pile of snow in the middle of one of his father's dens. Elsa must have created it just before the beam clipped her. Above them, the staircase continued to sink. Hans gathered Elsa up in his arms and dashed towards the double doors. Behind them was a small handful of guards and a much shaken Queen Alma. If he hadn't been so worried about Elsa at the time, he would have laughed.

"How soon will you be sending her home?" Hans asked, feigning only a mild interest in Elsa's wellbeing.

King Enoch shook his head. "We won't be sending her home."

Hans frowned. "What does that mean?"

"We have no other choice. She knows too much."

"All she knows is that you locked her up in a room," Hans replied. "She doesn't know how or why."

"And I'm sure you didn't tell her a thing!" Queen Alma barked. "How stupid do you think we are?"

Hans crossed his arms. "And how stupid do you think_ I_ am? Do you really think I'd try to make an ally of the woman who put me in this position in the first place? I'd sooner hire a band of clumsy, ham-fisted men to have me drawn and quartered."

"That would have been a welcome little surprise," his stepmother growled. King Enoch shushed her with a finger to his lips. He turned his attention back to Hans.

"She's right, son. You were in that room with the queen for almost three days. You expect us to believe that in all that time the two of you spoke not a word to each other?"

"Obviously she knew you had lied to her about my being ill and had questions for me. I simply told her that you were afraid to let her see how lax my punishment has been," Hans lied easily. "Tell her the same. Tell her you panicked. That isn't too far from the truth, is it? She'll understand, I'm sure. You just need remind her of her own recent mistakes." Hans smiled at his father. "We all make mistakes. Don't we, father?"

Queen Alma glanced at her husband. King Enoch sighed heavily, giving Hans the warning look he'd become used to by now. Hans and King Enoch both knew that the biggest secret of all was the one his father was keeping from his stepmother. What looked to Queen Alma like a man giving in to his spoiled son's whim was actually a coward doing what he had to do to continue to protect himself from the wrath of his wife.

"I don't want to have to do this, but I will. I have an investment in Queen Elsa that will be protected. She _will_ be returned home safely," Hans threatened quietly.

Enoch's silence set Alma's eyes blazing. "You can't seriously be considering sending her back to Arendelle, Enoch! Have you lost your senses? Nevermind whether or not she knows anything else! You can't possibly believe that she'd keep quiet about everything that's happened here!"

"Again, Alma is right," the king said resignedly. "Queen Elsa will stay here until we can come up with a safe and efficient way to dispose of her."

_Dispose of her…_

Hans felt physically ill at the thought.

"And if I could guarantee that Queen Elsa will not speak a word about what's happened?"

King Enoch was quiet again.

"Are you really willing to start a war over this? Because that's what will happen," Hans said seriously. "Queen Elsa is beloved by her people. My brothers couldn't care less if I dropped dead this second, but Princess Anna adores her sister. All of Arendelle would fight for answers and reduce this kingdom to rubble in the process. Are your secrets really worth all that? People will die – your own people will die. Your secrets will end up coming out anyway, and at the expense of hundreds of lives."

Queen Alma closed her eyes and dropped her chin. "How can you guarantee the queen's silence?"

Hans swallowed the lump in his throat, hating what he had to do next.

"We'll simply explain to Her Grace that if she keeps our secrets, we will keep hers."

"Her secrets?" Queen Alma repeated. "What are her secrets?"

"I'll tell you in exchange for sending her back to Arendelle as soon as possible." Hans said, smiling.

King Enoch and Queen Alma looked at each other. Hans dismissed himself from the incredibly strained silence. "I'll give you two a moment to think about it."

He crossed his small cell and sat down on the wooden bench. He crossed his legs, trying to look as cool and as casual as he possibly could. He rubbed his hand roughly along his jawline. The beard was driving him crazy. He hoped it came off looking more like he was stroking it methodically than trying to scrub it off his face with his bare hands.

"So?" Hans looked up brightly at his parents. "Do we have a deal?"

"We have conditions," Enoch said, eyes not telling him a thing.

"And they are…?"

"You tell us what this 'investment' is that you have in the queen," Queen Alma said quickly.

"Very well." Hans replied.

"And you will be the one to fill Queen Elsa in on the details of our agreement," she continued. "You will tell her what price she's paying for her freedom."

There was a glint in his stepmother's eyes that told him she enjoyed saying that. She was picking up on something his father couldn't – his feelings for Elsa. Hans had no choice but to call her on her unspoken bluff. Elsa's life was at stake.

"Fine," he said steadily. "If I'm to pay Queen Elsa a visit before she leaves, I'll need to look presentable. I'll require a bath, a shave, and some clean clothes. You can grant me those few niceties before we have our little chat, can't you?"

King Enoch nodded. He called over his shoulder for a nearby guard to escort them out of the dungeon. He turned his attention back to his son.

"We will speak again in the palace this evening after supper. You will tell us what we need to know. If you renege on this deal in any way, shape or form –"

"You can trust me, father." Hans said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Never a day of your life have I believed that to be true," King Enoch said hard-heartedly.

"Your father trusted me," Hans remarked wistfully.

"Thank God he didn't live long enough to see the man his grandson has become," the king said somberly.

"Aww," Hans purred, his hand over his heart. "I never could have become the man I am today without the help of his son," he replied, smiling sweetly.

King Enoch glared at him one last time before following his wife out the door of his cell. Hans gave him a little wave. "Thanks,_ Dad._"

**oooOOOOooo**

Later that evening, Hans slipped his braces over the shoulders of a crisp, high-collared shirt, and pulled on a black regency tailcoat. After stiffly buttoning it up, he tied a black cravat around his neck and stood in front of the mirror in what was formerly his bedroom. It looked no different than usual. He was surprised his parents hadn't immediately turned his room into another den for his father the second they banished him to the East wing of the palace. Because his father didn't have nearly enough "dens" in this godforsaken place.

Looking suitably diabolical in black, Hans was ready to close his deal with the Devil. Or devils, as the case may be. Lost in his thoughts, he pushed the silver cravat pin bearing the Westergård crest through the folds of fabric gathered at his throat, and directly into his finger. He stared numbly at the bead of blood the jab left behind, dark and inky against his pale skin. It swelled and burst, running down the side of his hand and making its way down his wrist, a long red thread that he caught with his tongue before it reached the white of his shirt cuff. He sucked on his fingertip to stop the bleeding, his eyes dwelling on those of his reflection in the mirror. He imagined in their place Elsa's blue eyes, tears spilling over her cheeks, lips twisted as she mercilessly bit into them the way she did when she was trying to keep from crumbling. He kept his eyes on hers, steeling himself against the hurt on her face, staring down her imagined presence as if he were trying to stare down the sun. He removed the black chamois gloves from his jacket pocket and slipped one on after the other.

He clasped his hands behind his back, straightened to his full height and tilted his chin upwards, channeling his father. "I am Prince Hans Lind Westergård, thirteenth son of the Southern Isles. I was neither born from love nor made for love. You've spent the past couple of days operating under the misconception that I long for someone to save me. I was made to be saved _from, _Your Grace."

He shuddered. A painful sting in his heart rippled through every vein, vibrated along every bone in his body. Reaching out with trembling hands, he grasped the wooden frame of the mirror. He leaned his forehead against the glass, gazing into his own reflection, still seeing her blue eyes in his green ones.

"Save yourself, Elsa," he whispered mournfully. "Save yourself..."


	17. Red Tornado

So.

I've gotten so many wonderful reviews and messages, both here and on Tumblr, and I just wanted to thank you so much for all your kind words. It really does make my day when I find them in my inbox and I'm so grateful that you're enjoying the story enough to write them, whether they come in paragraphs or just a single sentence.

Know that you're valued and appreciated.

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 17**  
RED TORNADO

For the second time in less than a year, Elsa woke up in a fog, having no idea where she was or why she was there. Varying degrees of shadow and light moved across her eyelids. She could hear and smell wood burning and the murmurings of two women, one on either side of her, but couldn't make out what they were saying.

Then she remembered…

_Hans…_

_Where is Hans?_

She remembered the grim look of resolve on Hans' face as he clung so stubbornly to his pride, standing steadfast as the world crumbled around him before she turned away from him for what she thought was for good.

She remembered the floor beneath the staircase breaking apart and the structure beginning to sink, the panic in Hans' green eyes. If she hadn't been so scared that her miscalculations were about to kill them both, she would have burst into tears of relief at seeing the life return to his green eyes.

After that…?

She couldn't remember anything after that.

Her body ached, but nowhere near as much as her head did. Her eyes fluttered open, the seam of a cloth bandage hung in her eye line. She tried to bring a hand up to her head to feel the extent of the damage, but she couldn't move her arms – she was tucked very tightly into a bed, she realized. She fuzzily wondered if she was in the same bed she'd shared with Hans.

Maybe it was all just a nightmare and she was still nestled against him, his arm draped possessively around her shoulders even as he slept. Maybe she was still curled up in the bed sheets she and Hans had…

_No. Don't be stupid, Elsa._

She would have sworn on her life that he was there beside her just then. The seasoned wood burning in the fireplace, the way its colour and heat kissed all five of her senses in different ways couldn't compete with his scent, and the effects it had on her body. She tried to speak his name but her throat was just too dry. The single syllable came out sounding more like a croak than anything else. She fought against the stiff blankets, finally able to bring her hand to her face, but not before her fingers brushed against the silky folds of fabric at her throat.

Hans' necktie. The one he had given her. It smelled of spearmint and wild tarragon.

Hans wasn't here with her after all. Of course he wasn't. Why would he be? She had left him, and he had let her go.

Then where was she?

She used her free hand to rub her eyes. The simple movement set her head throbbing. She moaned and suddenly an older woman she didn't recognize was at her bedside.

"Britta! Fetch King Enoch! Tell him that Queen Elsa is awake!"

"Yes, right away!"

The older woman, grey-haired and red-cheeked, hovered over Elsa holding a glass of water. "Do you need me to help you sit up, Queen Elsa? King Enoch will be here to see you in short time, and he'll be needing you to look and sound decent when he gets here. You've not had anything to drink in hours."

"King Enoch?"

"Surely you remember where you are, Queen Elsa. That's some bump on your head, but the doctor had a good look at you and said your mind would be working good as new if you woke up."

"Bump on my head?" Elsa murmured, dazed.

_If I woke up?_

"A nasty one, yes. Britta and I thought for sure you'd be out for days, if you ever came to at all. Let me help you up, your highness."

Elsa didn't question why the woman was in such a hurry to prop her up and pump her full of liquid. She silently let the woman wrap an arm around her shoulders to haul her up and lean her against the headboard. Elsa's head was spinning and she felt like she might vomit when the woman pressed the glass of water to her lips.

"Come now, girl. Drink. He'll be here any minute."

Elsa sipped a little water and groaned again. She turned her head away from the glass.

"I'm fine. That's enough," she said weakly. "Please, just tell me if I'm dressed or not."

"Of course you're dressed! What a question!" The woman snorted. "Everything but your jacket. Britta took it off because she thought it would make you more comfortable. It wasn't on that chair over there more than fifteen minutes before –"

"It melted," Elsa finished flatly. That was the only problem with the clothes she made – they needed the freeze, the glacial blood in her veins, to keep the delicate fabric from becoming one big puddle around her feet. Away from her body and in a room with a roaring fire, the jacket didn't stand a chance.

The doors flew open and Elsa almost leapt out of her skin. Her head began to pulsate again and she thought she might faint from the pain. Gritting her teeth, she sat up straighter as King Enoch and Queen Alma entered the room followed by two guards, each carrying a high-backed, upholstered chair. They set the chairs down at the foot of the bed, bowed and left the room, Elsa's nameless caretaker scurrying after them and closing the doors behind her.

Enoch and Alma looked like they were dressed for a funeral. Her funeral, maybe. She wasn't looking forward to this meeting in the least. Thanks to Hans, along with her own inability to keep her emotions under control, she had no idea what to expect. He had admitted to lying, but she had let her anger and frustration go from zero to a thousand before she could get any real information from him. Her recollection of the details of their last conversation was already getting away from her. Did he ever tell her if his parents had really planned to execute him?

Who were the real villains here? Did this story even have any?

She whimpered quietly. She wasn't making any sense. She felt the freeze pooling in the palms of her hands and touched one to her forehead hoping it would soothe the pain and clear her head a little. It did neither.

"Queen Elsa, it's good to see you're awake," Enoch said, looking and sounding so very sincere. God, he reminded her so much of Hans. She wondered how many hearts he'd broken with that handsome face of his.

"Is it really?" Elsa asked out loud, which wasn't at all her original intention.

"Remember who you're speaking to, Queen Elsa," Alma snapped. To her husband she said, "This is a mistake, Enoch. I beg you to reconsider."

"Come now, my darling. A promise is a promise." Enoch smiled, his eyes never leaving Elsa's, and a shiver ran down her spine. It wasn't like any of his other smiles. It was almost lewd.

"What is she talking about? What's a mistake?" Elsa asked, her hands grabbing fistfuls of the bed sheets beneath her quilt. She couldn't look away from Enoch's gaze. Something deep inside was telling her not to take her eyes off of him for a moment.

"We're putting you on a ship back to Arendelle first thing in the morning," he explained. Elsa's eyes widened.

"Against our better judgement," Alma added sourly, reaching up and smoothing a lock of her silver hair back with the others in the severe updo she wore. How different this woman was from the one who welcomed her so eagerly to her kingdom just a few days earlier.

"If you weren't going to send me home, what were you going to do with me?" Elsa asked before she'd decided whether or not she really wanted to know the answer.

Enoch chuckled and waved his hand dismissively.

"That really isn't important, is it? The past is in the past. What matters now is that you will be back in your own kingdom before you know it. If…"

"If…?" Elsa's eyes narrowed.

"If we can get your solemn promise that what has happened here will stay just between the four of us."

Almost as if on cue, the bedroom doors swung open and in stepped Hans, looking incredibly striking dressed entirely in black. Every detail was sharper – eyes greener, skin fairer, hair red like hellfire. It was like she was seeing him for the first time in years. Forgetting herself, she smiled. She hadn't realized how worried she was that he had been hurt. All at once her anger, her hatred, and the shame she had felt for falling in love with him evaporated into the air and left her cold. She couldn't remember the last time she could actually feel the cold.

Because it was too late. She was too late. They were lost to each other now. What kind of life would she have without him? What kind of life could she have?

Hans didn't look at her as he crossed the room to stand between his parents.

He bowed stiffly. "Hello, Queen Elsa."

Elsa smiled and sighed. "Prince Hans, I'm relieved to see you're alright."

He looked surprised by her words, and it hurt her heart so. He seemed to hesitate before speaking again.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

Through the corner of her eye, Elsa could see Alma watching their exchange carefully. She wasn't sure what his mother was watching for exactly, but it made her uneasy nonetheless.

King Enoch's voice broke the tense silence between Elsa and Hans.

"Prince Hans has agreed to keep what transpired here over the past few days a secret in exchange for your freedom. We will, of course, require the same vow of secrecy from you."

Elsa couldn't believe her ears. Did they really expect her not to tell anyone what happened? Were they insane?

"You can't be serious," she said. "I have an obligation to Arendelle as its ruler to be honest and forthright in all matters concerning the kingdom, and that includes foreign relations and any threat they may pose to the safety of my people. You held me against my will, deprived me of the most basic of necessities, forced me to leave my country vulnerable and without a leader, and you expect me to keep silent? Keeping secrets might be the way things are done here in the Southern Isles, but that isn't how we do things in Arendelle."

"Very well, Queen Elsa," Alma said calmly. "If you insist on keeping your subjects up to date on what you've been up to the past few days, we'll happily oblige."

Elsa didn't like the sound of that. She looked to Hans for some sort of elaboration on his mother's words, but his face told her nothing. He continued to stare blankly at a spot just above her head.

"On the subject of foreign relations, our son has informed us that you and he, um - I'm sorry, Hans. How did you phrase it again exactly?" Alma asked.

"That I skewered the queen like a rare piece of meat," Hans replied.

Elsa's heart stopped beating.

_I heard him wrong. I must have heard him wrong._

"Hans…" she whispered, hardly able to believe what he'd just said.

"Ah, that's right. He said you let him skewer you like a rare piece of meat." Alma smiled smugly. She reached out and touched Hans' chin, lifting him out of his trance. Hans looked across at his mother and returned her smile with one of his own. Elsa's eyes darted from one crooked grin to the other.

_No…_

Elsa felt sick. This wasn't happening.

"I'm sure it's well within your subjects' rights to know what their queen has been up to with the man who allegedly tried to murder her for her crown. Don't you think, Hans?"

Hans smirked, tilting his head so he could look down his nose at Elsa. She shrank back against the headboard, her bottom lip shaking. "If I'd known how easy it would be to get the ice queen to lift her skirts for a man she hardly knows, I wouldn't have wasted so much time trying to get her ridiculous sister to marry me."

"Hans..." Elsa gasped, still clenching the bed sheets in her fists. The freeze howled in her ears, raced through her veins like a beast, wild and aimless. "Why are you doing this?"

"I want to ensure you get home safely. I have a vested interest in your wellbeing, Queen Elsa," he explained. "I do hope you at least possess the good sense to accept the deal."

She searched for some sort of sign that this was all just a show Hans was putting on for his parents, but she could find no hint from top to toe that Hans' vile behaviour was anything other than exactly what it looked and sounded like.

"It isn't a deal," Elsa snapped, trying not to sound as helpless as she felt. "It's blackmail. And what do you mean you have a 'vested interest' in me?"

Alma chuckled. "I'm sure it didn't occur to you while in the throes of passion that you might end up carrying your would-be murderer's child."

Elsa's eyes grew wide with panic, sending the tears that had been clinging to her lashes cascading over her cheeks.

_No, no, no…_

How could she have been such an idiot?

Queen Alma continued, "It really astounds me that a woman who doesn't even know how her own body works was only moments ago trying to tell us how to rule an entire kingdom."

King Enoch laid a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, beaming proudly. "A Westergård may end up ruling Arendelle one day after all."

Alma crossed her arms. "Here's how it's going to be, Queen Elsa. You will return to Arendelle. You won't speak a word about being held against your will. In exchange, we will keep your secret. No one outside of this room will ever find out that you were our son's whore."

Elsa closed her eyes. Her chin wobbled, but she refused to cry. They would enjoy that, she decided. She clenched her jaw so hard her entire head throbbed.

"Very well," she whispered, resigning herself to her humiliating fate. "I just want to go home."

"A wise decision, Queen Elsa. Now rest up. You have a long journey ahead of you."

Queen Alma put her arm through her husband's and together they headed for the doors. Hans turned to follow them.

"Prince Hans," Elsa called hoarsely. Hans paused. For a moment she thought he'd decide to keep walking, but he turned around to look at her, the same unreadable expression on his face. Enoch and Alma stopped and turned as well, curious as to what Elsa was going to say next.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"When I told you I hated you, that was a lie."

Something in his eyes flickered, but she was too far away to decipher its meaning, and too despondent to care.

"What I felt when I first said those words to you was nowhere near as ugly as what I feel now. What I feel now – _this_ – _this_ is hate," Elsa said, impressed that she was able to keep her voice so steady. "If it turns out I _am_ carrying your child, which I can only pray isn't the case, I won't wait until the next time you decide to try to lay a blade against my neck. I promise you I will slit my throat myself. And as you know, I was raised to always keep my promises."

Her last words to him hung in the air for barely a heartbeat before Hans suddenly doubled over and gasped as though something or someone had breached flesh and bone to yank the air from his lungs. The room was plunged into darkness as the fire went out and a strong, sudden gust of wind whipped around the room like an unforgiving spirit seeking vengeance. Hans grabbed onto the fireplace mantle to keep from dropping to his knees. Frost reached swiftly across the stone, crackling noisily. The oil lamp resting on it burst, sending shards of glass in every direction. Queen Alma and King Enoch both raised their arms to protect themselves. Hans squeezed his eyes shut, clutching his chest with his free hand. The familiar sight of a white streak surging through his red hair was just as upsetting as it was the first time Elsa saw it happen to him. She almost made a move to help him, but the guards at the door were faster.

"Get him out of here before she kills him," one barked, ushering the king and queen through the doors. Two others grabbed Hans under his arms before he hit the floor and swiftly dragged his limp body out of the room. The doors slammed behind them and Elsa found herself alone and in the dark in more ways than one. She removed her hands from beneath her quilt and stared at them. _No._ Despite how livid she was and how betrayed she felt, she had managed to keep the freeze under control. Under any other circumstances, she probably would have been proud of herself. But her personal triumph was quickly gobbled up by her feelings of confusion and fear.

_Hans…_

She could tell Hans what was happening to him, which could possibly save his life, but at the expense of putting everyone else's in peril, or she could keep quiet and…

God, she didn't want to say it. She didn't even want to think it. She hated him, so very much, but she couldn't imagine a world without…

She closed her eyes and sank beneath the covers, pulling them over her head.

She pressed her face into the pillow and softly started sobbing.

_Or I can keep quiet and let him die._


	18. Black Ice

So.

I'm overwhelmed by all the support I've been getting here and on Tumblr. I can't thank you enough. This time of year has always been difficult for me, and your kind words have really lifted my spirits.

So here's chapter 17. My head has been incredibly muddled these days, so I hope it's a decent read for you. I already know that I'm going to have to have another look at it when my retinas heal. I really do need to consider turning down the brightness on my monitor.

As always, I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Thanks again so much for reading.

ssg.x.

**C****HAPTER 18  
**BLACK ICE

Hans…

"Hans?"

"Hm?"

Hans opened his eyes sleepily, surprised to find himself back in his old room, the one he'd been forced to call home since he returned from Arendelle. The room he'd shared with Elsa.

He sat up to examine his surroundings. The icicles that had hung from the rafters were gone, and without the thick coating of frost, sunlight was finally able to flood into the room through the massive window.

_The floor…_

Hans climbed out from under the blankets, straightening the jacket he wore before realizing it was his light grey tailcoat. He was wearing it over his royal blue waistcoat and shirt. For whatever reason, he was still wearing his riding boots over the matching blue trousers. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he saw that the chasm in the floor Elsa had caused during her escape attempt was gone, as was any trace of snow or ice.

There was no way this was the same room.

He turned and noticed that the wardrobe he had destroyed trying to get out of after Elsa had inadvertently locked him in was perfectly intact.

"No, no, no…" he whispered. His hands flew to the collar of his shirt and he quickly began unbuttoning it. He slipped one hand beneath the fabric, feeling for the brand over his heart.

_Still there._

"That's very sweet," he heard a voice say. Elsa's voice.

He spun around to look at her. She was standing across the room, and in only a few strides he was standing beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her white hair. The feeling of relief that washed over him was so intense he thought he might cry.

"You're okay. You're alright," he gasped. She brought her arms around him and laughed.

"Of course I'm alright. You checked for the mark on your chest."

Hans nodded, arms still wrapped tightly around her. "Yes. I wanted to make sure it wasn't a dream."

"What part?" she asked, lifting a hand to stroke the back of his hair.

"The part where you loved me," he said. "Tell me you love me." He held her out at arm's length. "Please," he whispered. "Tell me you love me."

"Hans…" she began. The small smile on her face wreaked havoc with his heart, which hammered in his chest the longer it took her to fulfill his request. It was a miracle he noticed anything else outside of her hands on his waist, her blue eyes on his green ones. But he did.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, stepping away from her. She was wearing his blue, wool greatcoat. The last time he had seen it, it was lying across a trunk on the docks with the rest of his belongings after arriving home. It was in rough shape. There were several drops of blood on the torso from when Anna punched him in the face, sending him clear over the side of the ship they'd found themselves standing on together after Elsa managed to thaw the fjord. It hadn't been dried or aired out properly after he'd been pulled from the water and you could tell, if not from looking at it, then by smelling it.

Once, not long ago, seeing it would have reminded him of his failure to steal the crown. Now it just reminded him of his failures as a human being. Seeing Elsa standing there in it was making him sick to his stomach.

"This old thing?" Elsa said, smirking.

"Take it off," he said quietly. "Please."

"Alright. Whatever you want," she replied. She slowly unbuttoned the coat and then opened it, revealing the pale blue dress and train she wore beneath it. She began walking towards him, letting the coat fall from her shoulders as she drew closer.

"That dress…" Hans murmured. "You were wearing it when…"

"Do you remember how you cradled me in your lap as you rode with me back to Arendelle?"

Hans' eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You couldn't possibly remember that. You were unconscious."

Ignoring him, she pressed on. "Do you remember?"

"Yes," he said uncomfortably. "I remember."

"You laid me down on that bench in that cold cell. You brought me a blanket. Do you remember?" she asked again. Hans sat down on the end of the bed. She stood between his knees, reached down and took his hands, then placed them on her hips. He leaned his head against her belly and sighed.

"Yes. I remember. I remember thinking…" His throat began to ache. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"What do you remember?" Elsa asked gently. She began to draw her fingers through his hair again.

"I remember thinking you were beautiful. That…" his voice was shaking. He tightened his hold on her. "That you would have made a beautiful bride. That it was a shame I'd have to k-kill you…because you…"

Hans began to sob, and the sheer force of his shame and his agony set his entire body quaking. Elsa shushed him softly. She knelt down in front of him and kissed his forehead, then the tears from his cheeks. She pressed her lips to his, and he moaned against her mouth. The tip of her tongue toyed with his. They began to kiss properly, and he quickly felt himself becoming aroused. Elsa's breasts brushed against his groin with every one of their kisses, and it was maddening. He couldn't undress her because the gauzy, glittery thing was like a second skin on her, not a ribbon or a fastener to be found. He ran his hands up and down her arms, encouraging her to rock against him again and again.

He climbed back on the bed, and much to his delight she followed him, lifting the skirt of her dress around her thighs so she could straddle his hips. He groaned as she settled in his lap, pulling her deeper into their kisses.

"Hans…" she began, pulling back.

"Elsa, no…please…" he gasped, driving his tongue into her mouth as his fingers traced the pale slopes of her breasts. She allowed him to invade her mouth for just a few seconds longer before she pulled away again, this time more insistently.

"I have something for you," she said. Hans watched her curiously as she reached into the front of her dress, drawing out a silk, magenta cravat. His silk, magenta cravat. She held it up with both hands for him to see. Hans continued to move his hips despite his confusion, and she continued to follow his lead, moving her own hips in small circles around his erection. He wanted to be inside her again so badly he could hardly think straight.

"Put your hands behind your back," she whispered into his ear. He mindlessly obeyed, crossing his wrists one over the other behind him. She reached around him and tied them together, her lips a mere breath away from his. He leaned his forehead against hers, his breathing quickly becoming ragged as Elsa's focus turned back to making them both feel good. She looped her arms around his neck, and with renewed enthusiasm, she began to ride him. His erection strained against his trousers and – _Christ _\- was it ever excruciating, but it felt glorious. He wanted to lie back so he could thrust upwards with more force, but he was afraid he'd yank one of his shoulders out of its socket if he leaned back too far.

"Untie my hands, Elsa," he gasped. "I want to touch you. Please."

"Hans," she moaned. "Won't you save me? Won't you save us both?" she whispered, beginning to ride him harder.

"I can't, Elsa," he groaned helplessly. Against his better judgement, he leaned back on his wrists. His arms shuddered beneath his weight and the extra strain of being used as leverage for his violent, desperate thrusts. "Elsa, please…"

"You need to think of a way to save us, Hans. You need to think of a way out of here."

"Untie me, Elsa," he pleaded almost tearfully. "I'm begging you…"

Elsa cried out his name. Her head dropped back, her lips apart, and her eyes closed. He watched her chest rising and falling as she shimmered and shook above him. He smiled around his attempts to catch his breath, closed his eyes for just a second…

When he opened his eyes again, her neck – her long, elegant neck – had split open as though a seam had burst.

"Elsa!" he shouted, eyes wide with terror. He struggled against the cravat still tied around his wrists. Above him, her head was tipped back in the most grotesque way. It seemed barely a part of her body as it hung behind her, almost halfway down her back. From the gaping wound poured pomegranate seeds - shiny, wet and red as blood. The cravat held together as though it were forged from iron. The more he fought against the knot, the stronger it became. He cried. He called out Elsa's name. He could do little else.

**oooOOOOooo**

It had been a couple of hours since Hans awoke from his nightmare. He had been afraid to fall asleep again, so he found himself playing a game of Kriegspiel in his head. He counted the icicles hanging from the rafters above his bed. The presence of snow and ice in the room, and the frost gathering on the windowpane, were the only signs Hans had that Elsa was still in the palace somewhere. It put him a little at ease because it meant that she was alive.

"_I promise you I will slit my throat."_

He knew she would never wilfully hurt another person – he was sure that whatever had happened to him had been an accident, though she would have every right to want to hurt him after what he'd done to her - but he couldn't be so certain she wouldn't hurt herself. A light snow fell from somewhere above him, and ice began to wind like vines around the bedposts and reach across the headboard. His heart pounded in his chest and he felt himself becoming short of breath again.

_She's okay. _

_She's okay because she has to be okay._

Hans sat up when he heard the doors opening. Through them swept his parents, unescorted this time, which usually meant that they were worried Hans would let one of their secrets slip. As usual, though, his father looked emotionally impenetrable. His face was a wall with nary a crack in it. His stepmother, on the other hand, had panic written all over hers.

"How are you feeling?" his father asked. Hans gave him a lopsided grin.

"Honestly, _Dad_. I wish you'd drop the concerned father act. If you want to play that game in front of your court, go ahead, but spare me the performance when we're alone. You and Lady Macbeth are about as happy to find me alive and well as I usually am when I wake up in the morning to find you both in a similar state."

"Very well, son." Enoch sighed tiredly. "We've come to tell you that we've honoured our part of the bargain. Queen Elsa departed on a ship headed for Arendelle early yesterday morning."

It took every nerve-ending in Hans' body not to show even a hint of confusion or panic at his father's news. There was a menacing electricity in the air that even his parents seemed to notice. Enoch gave his shoulders a good shake while Alma crossed her arms tightly across her chest, evidently feeling a cold Hans no longer noticed.

"Will she arrive safely?" Hans asked. He didn't want to come right out and ask them if they were planning on having her meet with some kind of "accident" on her way home. He didn't want to give them any ideas.

"On my life she will arrive safely," Enoch replied. Hans narrowed his eyes at him. His father's response seemed genuine but Hans wasn't stupid. Over the course of many, many years, his father had sworn on his sons' lives, Alma's life, his grandchildren's lives, his great grandchildren's lives, his father's grave, his mother's grave... The list went on and on. Now Enoch was swearing on his own life. It would have to do for now. Hans was in no position at that moment to doubt him, if only because his mind was occupied with thoughts of Elsa. If he was going to try to read his father, he'd need to have his wits about him.

In short, Hans would have to hold off on wishing his father was dead for at least another day or two.

"Alma and I have been racking our brains trying to decide what's to be done with you. You haven't exactly been a model son this past year," Enoch began.

Alma rolled her eyes. "That's the understatement of the nineteenth century."

"All things considered, I think I've been an exemplary son." Hans replied. "I marched in the parades, waved to the crowds, did the royal tours, shook hands with dignitaries, and supped with rulers of other kingdoms. I stood side by side with the brothers who hate me, and side by side with the parents who hate me more. I've done everything that's been expected of me as a son of the Southern Isles. Have I hated every second of it? Yes. But no one has ever been the wiser. To the naked, and even the not so naked eye, I couldn't be prouder or more honoured to be a Westergård. I've kept this family's secrets, and there have been many."

Alma was about to speak again, but Enoch held up his hand, effectively shutting her up.

"What do you want, then?" he asked.

"My freedom," Hans answered without a second's thought. "I want my freedom, and I no longer care how I get it."

"I think it's pretty safe to say you stopped caring how you got your freedom the second you decided to blackmail us to send you to the coronation," Alma barked.

"I want to go back to Arendelle," he said firmly. "If Queen Elsa is carrying my child, I want to be sure she doesn't harm it or herself. I don't trust that woman. If she isn't pregnant, I will return and resume my duties as a Westergård. No more cells, above or below ground. If she _is_ pregnant, I want to be there when she decides on her next move. I want to be the voice in her ear. I want Queen Elsa as my wife. I want Arendelle's throne."

His voice trembled almost imperceptibly as he spoke. Elsa, of course, would never be his wife. Nothing would shame her more than marrying the man who had tried to slaughter her, the man who had left her beloved sister to die. Who would ever believe he followed her around because she'd wholly enslaved him and not because he was hiding a sword behind his back? Not that he and Elsa had a better chance at being together before she tried to freeze him to death for the second time in less than a week, but he let a part of himself believe her when she promised him that he'd never be alone again. Maybe more than a part.

He wouldn't be able to convince her to let him be a part of her life, but he couldn't bear to be the cause of her death. Not again. If she did something to hurt herself…

Mercifully, his stepmother interrupted the thought before he had to finish it.

"That's it!" she shouted. "I've had enough of this! I've had enough of _him_, Enoch!"

Enoch pinched the bridge of his nose. Hans couldn't help but smile. Enoch would probably never pay for his past crimes, but Hans did find a measure of comfort knowing he was stuck with Alma 'til death did them part. How his father could stand her, he had no idea.

"Hans, I promised your grandfather that you would grow up benefitting from the same advantages as your brothers. But I can't be beholden to my father for the rest of my life. So I'm granting you your wish. You are free to travel to Arendelle."

Of all the things Hans was expecting his father to say, that was nowhere near the top of the list. After all these years, he was letting Hans go of his own free will? There had to be a catch.

Of course there was a catch.

"You will take what you can fit in a single trunk and leave the palace tonight. You will find your own way to Arendelle. Three months should give you just enough time to learn for certain if Elsa is with child. Make good use of that time to 'be the voice in her ear'. If you marry the queen, your freedom will remain yours to do with as you wish."

"And if I don't marry the queen?" Hans asked.

"Well, we'll just have to send someone out to fetch you," Enoch answered easily.

_Fetch. Right._

Alma chuckled. "You could give him a year. Ten years. You think she'll want to have anything to do with him ever again after he made yet another Machiavellian lunge for her crown?"

"Enough, Alma."

"You heard what she said. She would sooner take her own life than have his child. Enoch, this whole thing is a complete waste of time."

"Alma…" Enoch ground out, shooting her another warning look.

"Enoch, I've had enough of you coddling this ungrateful, troublemaking little rat! He is never going to stop holding history over our heads! We can't just wait until the next ice queen he crosses finishes the job! We need to dispatch of him ourselves _now_!" she shouted, at the end of her tether. "He'll never stop, Enoch! Don't you understand? He will _never_ stop!"

Hans threw the sheets aside and leapt off the bed, launching himself towards her. Startled, she stumbled backwards, reaching out for her husband's arm.

"History? You think this is about _history_? Listen, you shrieking, twisted, old crow – "

"That's enough!" Enoch roared. "Alma! Leave!"

Alma was incredulous. "I will do no such thing!"

"_Leave_, Alma! I will handle my son alone from here on out!"

She opened her mouth to speak again, but Enoch, setting his jaw, glared at her. "I won't ask you again."

Positively indignant, Alma tossed her chin, turning brusquely and heading through the doors. She slammed them behind her with such force that they shook in their frame. Enoch glared at his son.

"Three months, Hans."

"Very well. Three months." Hans agreed.

"You'll forgive me if I don't see you off tonight. Do have a safe trip, son."

Hans had nothing to say to that. He watched his father turn on his heel and begin to head for the doors. Just before opening them to leave, he paused.

"Hans, I really do hope you get what you want."

Hans tilted his head to one side and stared at his father, puzzled by his words.

"That Queen Elsa is a beautiful woman, isn't she?" he said ever-so-nonchalantly. "And so spirited. She reminds me a little of your mother."

Hans' eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I think she'd be a wonderful addition to our happy little family, don't you?"

Lips curling to reveal quite the crocodile's smile, Enoch opened the doors and left, closing them quietly behind him. Hans clenched his fists.

_I'll kill him._

_If he touches her…_

His blood thundered in his ears, tore through his veins like a firestorm. Frost climbed the walls noisily, jagged and dark like hematite. His fingernails bit into the heels of his hands. The mark on his chest blazed.

_If he goes near her, I'll run him right through his shrivelled, little –_

His left fist suddenly burst open in an eruption of light and…what? Stars? Snow? His fingers were pushed apart by an incredible force…

An elaborate hilt and guard, and then a blade, long and curved. It was easily the most stunning cutlass Hans had ever seen, and it was made entirely of ice. The shock of its sudden appearance, combined with the sheer weight of the weapon, caused a startled Hans to drop it. It hit the wooden slats of the floor with a heavy thud, narrowly missing his foot.

Hans stared at it, mouth agape. He crouched down beside it to have a closer look, not yet willing to trust his eyes.

_What the…_


	19. Unleashed

So.

I've been a little under the weather this week (I have a love/hate relationship with my Bipolar Disorder these days), but I was determined to get a chapter up today. I'm going to put my head down for a couple of hours now and then have another look at this thing, so if it's a mess, I hope it won't be for long.

As always, thank you for all the reviews and kind words. I'm so very lucky to have you, and your support and encouragement mean everything to me.

Be well. Stay warm. Or cool depending on what your preference is.

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 19**  
UNLEASHED

For the fifth time that evening, Kristoff found himself carefully walking down the hall towards Elsa's bedroom while trying to balance a re-fired bowl of the head chef's special recipe for cod and root vegetable soup, a cheese platter and a heel of freshly baked bread on a wooden tray. Under normal circumstances, Gerda would be the one bringing her dinner, but at the older woman's insistence, he was walking down the dimly lit hallway in her place.

"Maybe you can talk some sense into the girl. She needs to eat."

Between his large hands and his clumsy feet, he was walking at a caterpillar's crawl, afraid he'd trip and send the tray's contents flying. The soup would be cold by the time he got to the bedroom door, he was sure of it.

When he finally reached Elsa's bedroom, he looked down and smiled sadly. Anna was still propped up against the door, her knees drawn up to her chin and her face buried in her folded arms.

"Anna…"

"I'm not hungry, Kristoff. Just like I wasn't hungry the other six times you tried to get me to eat," she said gloomily.

"For your information, this is only the fifth time," he replied with mock indignation. "Don't you feel even a little sorry for me? I've done this _five times_ now. Do you know how hard it is not to trip up in these boots on these hundred year-old rugs you have all over place?"

"Maybe you shouldn't be wearing winter boots in the middle of Spring."

Kristoff eased himself down beside her, gently placing the tray of food on the floor in front of them.

"I wear them because they're comfortable. Comfort's important to me. One of the reasons why I try to avoid things like, say, slowly starving myself to death, or falling asleep in doorways."

He scooped up a spoonful of the soup and held it out to Anna. She scowled at him.

"Come on, Anna. I've had an easier time cleaning Sven's teeth."

Anna sighed, looking so close to giving in.

"Look," Kristoff said, holding the wooden spoon up so she could get a better look at it. "I even brought your spoon. The spoon wants to be used, Anna. This was supposed to be its maiden voyage. Don't disappoint the spoon."

Anna smiled.

"'Don't disappoint the spoon?' You really are a goon, aren't you?"

Kristoff shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever works. Now are you going to eat?"

Anna opened her mouth and he popped the spoon into it. Most of its contents ended up on her chin. They both started to laugh. She took the spoon from him.

"I hope when you clean Sven's teeth you actually manage to get the brush in his mouth. Otherwise I think I know why Sven gives you such a hard time."

Kristoff relaxed against the wall, enjoying the sound of the spoon scraping the insides of the bowl as Anna continued to eat. God, he was so relieved to see her smiling again. The sound of her laughter after so long was like all the windows in the palace being opened at once. Suddenly he could breathe again. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Have you eaten?" Anna asked.

"No, but I'm okay," he lied. "Gerda put something aside for me to eat later."

The truth was that he was very hungry, but he'd been so worried about Anna that he hadn't eaten ye –

_Oh._

Anna tore the heel of bread in half and handed him a piece. Kristoff took it.

"You're a lousy liar," she chuckled. "Have some cheese."

"Isn't that a good thing? I mean being a lousy liar," he offered, his voice muffled by the bread and wedge of cheese he'd quickly shoved in his mouth.

Anna reached over and dusted some crumbs off his face. "Yes, it is. I think I've had my fill of good liars for the timebeing. Or forever."

"Has Queen Elsa come out of her room yet? She must know you've been out here all day."

"You can call her Elsa, you know."

"Not if she can hear me. Do you think she can hear me?"

Anna banged the back of her head against the door. "Yes, I'm about a hundred percent sure SHE CAN HEAR EVERYTHING WE'RE SAYING RIGHT NOW."

"Am I correct in assuming, then, that she hasn't come out?" Kristoff asked, trying his best not to laugh. It couldn't be helped. She was adorable.

"No," Anna replied miserably. "Not since she got home almost THREE DAYS AGO. And it's killing me," she said. "Do you hear that, Elsa? YOU'RE KILLING ME!" she shouted. She dropped the spoon into the empty soup bowl and buried her face in her hands. "Why is she doing this to me? She promised me she'd never shut me out again." To the door she yelled, "You _promised_ me, Elsa!"

Kristoff put his arm around her and gently coaxed her into his embrace. She leaned her head against his chest and wiped her eyes.

"Has she let anyone in?"

"Gerda. Once. And only because she probably used our doctor as a human doorstop."

"Doctor? Is she okay?"

Anna sighed heavily. "She had a bandage wrapped around her head when she stepped off the ship. Gerda insisted our doctor have a look at her. He told us that Elsa was struck in the head, but that she'd be fine. We don't know any more than that. She won't tell us how she was hurt." She wrapped her arms around her knees. "I just want to know if you're alright," she called out. "Elsa, please…"

Anna started to cry and the sound broke Kristoff's heart. Between the two of them, Kristoff was usually the cool-headed one, but just then he felt like busting Elsa's door down for hurting Anna this way, and if she wasn't in such an emotional state, Kristoff wouldn't have been too shy to tell her so. Instead, he brought his other arm around her. She held him back and sniffled into his broad chest.

"I'm sure she'll be alright eventually. She loves you so much, Anna. Maybe she just needs a little time."

He kissed the top of her head tenderly and tugged gently at one of her long, red braids. They almost didn't notice the folded piece of paper that slid out from under the door. Anna excitedly picked up the note and unfolded it across her lap.

_He's right_, it read.

Anna wriggled out of Kristoff's hold. She got up on her knees and pressed her cheek against the door.

"I love you, Elsa," she said.

"I love you, Anna," came Elsa's soft, muffled reply.

Anna smiled and stood. Kristoff picked up the tray and started walking down the hall. Anna put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Wait. The bowl of dried cherries. I want to leave it by the door. She loves those."

Kristoff held the tray out to her. She took the small bowl of dried cherries and gingerly set it down in front of the door. She looked back at Kristoff, all tension gone from her face. She drew her arm through his, and gave it a squeeze. If he hadn't been holding the tray just then, he would have kissed her. He glanced down at her hand and suddenly wished the ring he'd slipped on her finger _was _an engagement ring.

_Soon_, he thought.

They continued down the hall, Anna smiling serenely while Kristoff carried the tray with a little more confidence this time. A second before they turned the corner, Kristoff glanced back and saw Elsa's pale and slender arm reach out through a crack in the door. She slid the bowl of cherries along the floor, then both disappeared back into the room, leaving behind a small flurry of snow.

**oooOOOOooo**

After Kristoff was finally able to sit down and eat his own dinner, and Anna made quick work of a second and third helping of soup, the two of them were about to bid each other goodnight at the bottom of the stairs leading back up to Anna's bedroom when Kai rounded a corner and came barreling towards them, flanked by two palace guards.

"Princess Anna…" he gasped.

"Kai!" she called out, running to meet him. "What's going on?"

"We have a situation, my lady. We need to speak with Queen Elsa."

Anna and Kristoff exchanged worried glances.

"That isn't possible. Queen Elsa is still recovering from her injury. What kind of situation? What's happened?"

Struggling to catch his breath, Kai wheezed, "It's Prince Hans, Your Highness."

Anna's eyes widened. Kristoff took her hand.

"Prince Hans? Where? What does he want?"

"At the docks. He's asking to see Queen Elsa," he said.

Anna looked at him as though he were insane. "Are you kidding? He's not getting anywhere near my sister!"

"I'm afraid he's insisting, my lady."

"You tell him he can go to hell!" she shouted. Kai raised his eyebrows at the sudden, unusually acidic outburst. "Actually, wait. I'll tell him myself. Take me to him."

"Princess Anna, it's not that simple -"

"It has to be that simple, Kai. Elsa is in no condition to see Hans, and even if she was, she has nothing to say to that weasel. Now take me to him."

Kristoff tightened his grip on Anna's hand.

"Anna, maybe Kai is right. Maybe this is something the queen should handle. I know she's unwell, but she's far more powerful than –"

Anna glared at him. "If you take a minute, you'll remember that I'm more than capable of handling that monster myself." To the guards she said, "Take me to him."

Kai sighed, finally relenting. "Very well, Princess. But I insist that you put on a cape first."

Anna tilted her head to one side. "A cape? What do I need a cape for?"

**oooOOOOooo**

Anna and Kristoff silently headed for the docks, following the guards through the dark, quiet streets of Arendelle. She wished they didn't have to prowl around like bandits, but the last thing she needed was a town full of panicking villagers.

How dare Hans show his face here again? She was sure he had something to do with Elsa's injury and whatever other traumas that had her locking herself up in her room again. If he was the one who'd undone all that progress, Anna would undo him.

Kristoff walked briskly beside her, his hand still holding hers. Anna glanced across at him. He looked worried, but he gave her a small smile. She smiled back.

"It'll be okay," she said, weaving her fingers through his. "I promise."

"What is that?" Kristoff asked, squinting his eyes and stopping dead in his tracks.

Anna chuckled, looking back at him. "It's just the moon, you scaredy-ca—"

When she faced forward again, she found herself having to raise her hand to shield her eyes from a light brighter than the sun. The moon hung low in the sky, full and flawless with a soft, chalky ring around it, but it wasn't the source of the powerful light that left her seeing spots.

As her eyes adjusted to its intensity, she heard the two guards drawing their swords. Kristoff yanked Anna by the elbow and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her protectively.

A few yards away, out on the water, stood Hans. He was dressed entirely in black, standing on the water as steadily and as confidently as though he were standing on stone.

_Or ice._

"Princess Anna," he called to her, bowing deeply. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Anna could hardly believe her eyes. He strode towards the pier as casually as if he were strolling through Town Square, trailing blue fire with each step he took. She remembered the night of the coronation ball, Elsa freezing the fjord as she made her escape towards the mountains.

"This is a nightmare," Kristoff whispered. "How's he able to do that?"

"I don't know." Anna replied, distracted. She pushed against Kristoff to free herself from his hold and shoved past the guards.

"What do you want?" she shouted. Hans gave her a wholly unsettling grin that made her shudder.

"I want to see Queen Elsa."

Kristoff tried to pull Anna back behind the safety of the guards, but she waved him off.

"That isn't going to happen, Hans. You're crazy if you think I'm letting you get anywhere near her."

Hans shook his head. "Anna, I've come a long way to see your sister, and I'm too tired to argue with you. So let me put it this way –"

He stomped his foot and the path of ice he stood on began to spread in every direction, racing across the surface of the water, well on its way to freezing everything in sight, just as Elsa's power had done on Coronation day. Anna felt just as helpless to stop it as she did then.

She looked back at Hans and observed that he was no longer smiling. She wasn't sure which of his many faces frightened her more. "If you don't let me see Queen Elsa, I will freeze the fjord. I'll bring a winter to Arendelle that will make hers seem like a vacation in the tropics. I will bring this kingdom to its knees."

Kristoff reached for Anna. "Anna, you need to let him see her. She's the only one who can stop him."

Anna shook her head, her eyes never leaving Hans. "No," she said firmly. "I won't lose her to him again."

"Anna –"

"No, Kristoff!" she snapped. "I _can't_ lose her again!"

Kristoff grabbed her arm, yanking her towards him. "Anna, it isn't about you and her anymore!"

"She's my sister!" she cried.

"She's also the queen, Anna! She's sworn to put the needs of the kingdom ahead of her own! You can't be selfish here! You're putting lives at risk! Do you really think that man over there cares if he freezes everyone to death? Do you think your sister would ever be able to forgive herself if something happened to her people? To you? You have to at least give her the chance to try and fix this."

Anna knew he was right, but still she hesitated.

"I'd listen to the giant if I were you," Hans said. "You're not exercising very good judgement right now, Anna. Frankly, I'd have thought you would have learned your lesson by now."

Anna glared daggers at him. "Very well," she seethed. "The guards will escort you to the palace."

"_You_ will escort me to the palace. You and that blonde, ham-handed friend of yours."

"Fine. Let's go."

Hans hopped onto the pier in a single, smooth motion. Anna watched as the icy path he left behind broke apart. When he drew near enough, she noticed the white streak in his hair but said nothing. Her questions would have to wait.

"Kristoff, please run ahead and let Queen Elsa know we're coming."

Kristoff shook his head fiercely. "I'm not leaving you alone with him," he said.

"Kristoff, I'm addressing you as your princess. Go on ahead of us and inform my sister and the staff that we're on our way," she ordered.

He looked positively devastated. It took everything she had left in her to ignore the hurt on his face, but she couldn't risk him losing his temper with Hans. He might retaliate by turning Kristoff into an ice sculpture. She turned her back on him and waited patiently for the sound of his retreating footsteps. Once she was sure he was gone, she brought her hand across her eyes to wipe away the tears that had gathered in them.

"Well, he seems nice." Hans said, standing beside her. "But then so did I once."

"Shut up," Anna replied sharply. "Let's just get this over with."


	20. The Deep Obscure

So.

It looks like we're in for another polar vortex up here in the Great North. Maybe this means I'll be able to update faster! I have a rather hard time resisting the allure of my sofa, blanket, and pile of cats. Luckily, I have my laptop set up right in the middle of all that.

I do hope you enjoy this chapter. If you make it all the way through to the end of it, candy for everyone! As always, I welcome your comments and criticisms. :)

Stay warm (or cool) and take good care of yourselves, okay?

ssg.x.

P.S. I've gotten a few PMs and reviews from people who seem to think this is the final chapter. It isn't! I promise! Not even close! :)

**CHAPTER 20**  
THE DEEP OBSCURE

"Your hulking, sausage-fingered fiancé is rather protective of you, isn't he? And loyal. Kind of like a Broholmer. I suppose you could have done worse."

Anna crossed her arms tightly across her chest to stop her shivering and keep her hands warm, cursing herself for not taking the pair of mittens Gerda had tried to force on her as she was running out the door.

"I almost did," she hissed.

As Hans walked beside her, he reached out his hand and let his fingertips drift along stone walls, chain posts and window boxes they passed along the way, leaving diaphanous patterns of frost in their wake. He tugged gently at a low-hanging branch and the entire tree ignited like a cluster of stars.

"I'm sorry to interrupt all the fun you're having," she said, "but I have some questions."

Hans glanced across at her and smirked. "Okay, but I can't guarantee that I'll answer all of them. Truthfully or otherwise."

"If it makes it any easier, my expectations as far as you and telling the truth are concerned couldn't be lower."

Hans linked his fingers together and stretched his arms above his head. He laughed. "You sounded like your sister there for a second."

"What would you know about my sister," Anna replied sharply, "besides how she looks when she's crumpled on the ground with your sword swinging above her head?" A light snow started to fall, and Anna shrugged deeper into her wool cape. "What did you do to Elsa while she was over there? How did she hurt her head?"

"I don't know," Hans answered with a smirk on his face. "Maybe she slipped on some ice and knocked it against something."

"Like the hilt of your sword?" Anna asked. Hans said nothing, but his jaw tightened noticeably.

"Forget it," Anna snorted. "I don't even know why I'm bothering to talk to you at all. If you weren't holding the fjord hostage, I'd have ripped all your limbs off one by one until you told me what I wanted to know." It was hard to sound menacing while wearing a pink, wool bonnet, but it didn't stop Anna from trying.

They walked in silence for what felt like forever, the guards trying their best not to lose their balance on the trail of ice Hans' footsteps left behind, and Anna occasionally blowing hot air into her cold hands.

"Is she alright?" Hans asked. Anna stared at him, puzzled and a little taken aback by the softness in his voice.

"No," Anna said quietly. "Not that you deserve to know or anything, but she isn't alright. She's not like you. She doesn't hide behind masks. She hides behind doors. Locked doors."

"Masks, huh?" Hans mused. He looked back over his shoulder, eyeing the guards. One of them nervously wrapped his hand around the grip of his sword and Hans wagged a finger at him as though he were admonishing a child. "Not a good idea." he warned.

"Did you come here to finish the job? To kill Elsa?" Anna asked. "Because it wouldn't be a fair fight. Though now that I think about it, fair fights aren't really your cup of tea, are they?"

Hans smiled. "Is there something you want to say to me, my lady? I get the distinct impression that you're holding back."

"No," Anna replied, turning her nose up. "You're disgusting and I have nothing to say to you."

She was quiet for about ten seconds.

"Yes, actually! I do have something to say!"

Hans sighed. "Go on, then."

"Have you ever loved anyone or anything in your entire life? I mean besides yourself. Haven't you ever had your heart broken? How could you tell someone you love them whe-"

"I never told you I loved you." Hans interrupted.

Anna's eyes widened incredulously. "Are you kidding? You practically sang it to me from the rooftops! Well, at least one rooftop. And a lighthouse. And that hall that goes to the lib—"

"I never told you I loved you," Hans insisted firmly. "At no point did I ever say 'Anna, I love you'. Not once. You heard what you wanted to hear. I counted on that. I preyed on that."

Anna rolled her eyes. "Listen, you can try to squeeze that huge head of yours and the rest of your slimy self through as many loopholes as you want, but it isn't going to change the fact that you're a heartless, soulless, lying snake." she said.

"Anna, if you're expecting me to apologize, it isn't going to happen. And if you think I'm going to open up to you, tell you I had a miserable childhood or that my mother never loved me, that that's why I'm such a 'heartless, soulless, lying snake', you're out of luck," he said indifferently. "Once upon a time a handsome, charming prince wanted to rule Arendelle and set about trying to make it happen. The end."

"God, you're such an a –"

"I know, I know. Your sister told me the same thing."

"Don't talk about my sister like you know her!" she shouted, pointing a finger at him threateningly. "It makes me sick to hear you talking about her at all, let alone like you know anything about her!"

Hans' smile deepened and he held his hands up. "Easy there, my lady."

"Listen - I may not have any magical powers, but just remember that little, ol' powerless me is the one that stopped big, evil, sword-wielding you from killing my sister. Don't think that I can't do it again if it comes to that. You underestimated Elsa and I once before. You'd be wise not to do it again."

Anna huffed, tugging her bonnet down around her ears and throwing her shoulders back haughtily. She practically marched the rest of the way to the palace, not looking back at Hans once.

**oooOOOOooo**

"Your Highness, please. You don't have to do this. There must be another way."

Kai jogged alongside Elsa as she walked determinedly down the hall leading to the library where she would meet with Hans for the first time since she left the Southern Isles. She felt strong – stronger than she'd felt in ages. The feelings of shame and sadness fell by the wayside in the wake of Hans' attack on her kingdom. There was no time just then to feel anything but protective. She had made mistakes, so many mistakes, but her subjects were innocents in all of this.

"Kai, I'll need you to take a handful of guards with you to search around for any staff that might still be lingering in the palace, particularly on the lower level."

"Yes, Your Highness. Of course. But –"

"Where's Kristoff gone?" she asked brusquely.

"He's following orders and making sure Princess Anna stays put. He really has his work cut out for him."

"It's of the utmost importance that my sister stay safe. If anything were to happen to me, she'd be all the kingdom would have left. And she's…she's my…" Elsa swallowed the lump in her throat. "She must stay safe at all costs." she finished, her voice trembling.

Kai nodded. "Of course, Your Highness. I understand. I will protect her with my life."

Elsa stopped walking and touched Kai's arm kindly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, Kai."

"You have an army at your disposal, Queen Elsa. You don't need to meet with him alone. You don't need to meet with him at all. I'm sure we can –"

"Kai, I know you're worried, but you and I both know I'm the only person who has even a sliver of a chance of protecting Arendelle against him."

"Your parents would be so proud of you, Your Highness."

Elsa smiled sadly, highly doubting that but appreciating Kai's kind words nonetheless. The only good thing about her parents' deaths was that they weren't around now to see the disaster she'd made of things.

She couldn't look Anna in the face. She'd shut herself up in her room for a dozen reasons, but the biggest of them all was that she was too ashamed to see her. And how could she possibly answer any of her questions?

_Oh, it turns out there was no influenza outbreak. I ended up locked in a room with your ex-fiancé – you remember him – the one I insisted you couldn't marry after only knowing him for a couple of hours? The one you almost died trying to rescue me from? I may have accidentally imbued him with the special powers he's holding Arendelle hostage with now. In bed. Oh - I might also be carrying his child. But enough about me. How were things here on the homefront?_

Elsa gave her head a shake. _Focus. Don't think about that now. Calm yourself, control yourself… Conceal, don't feel… Calm yourself, control yourself... Conceal, don't feel…_

She murmured her old mantra over and over again under her breath. Once she reached the threshold of the library, she stopped and turned firmly, facing Kai - her way of letting him know that it was time for them to part ways.

"Remember my orders, okay?" she said. "Make sure everyone is safe, and take care of my sister."

"One last time, Your Highness, might you reconsider bringing some guards in with you?"

"No. There's too much of a risk of them getting hurt. You saw what happened to Anna when I froze her heart. If I could do that much damage to someone by accident, just think what Prince Hans could do with intention and the skill of an accomplished swordsman. It's one thing to send them into a fight, but it's an entirely other thing to send them into certain death."

Kai nodded, finally yielding to her logic. "Very well, Your Highness."

She reached out to shake his hand. "I'll be alright. Everything will be alright. I promise you."

Kai bowed his head, taking her hand in both of his and kissing it.

"See you soon then, my lady."

Elsa smiled. "Yes. See you soon."

Once Kai was a safe distance from the doors, Elsa took a deep breath and opened them.

Hans stood across the room with his hands behind his back, staring off into space until the sound of the doors closing again alerted him to her presence. She quickly iced the locks as inconspicuously as she could, her heart pounding in her chest.

At the first sight of Hans, she felt such sorrow building in her throat, for a moment she was afraid she might sob before getting a single coherent word out. She was fully expecting that the moment she saw him, the hurt and hate would rush her both at once, and she'd end up freezing the entire library and the page of every book in it. But this? She wasn't expecting this, though she knew she should have.

She loved him. She still loved him.

"Elsa…" he breathed, his lower lip quivering. Elsa narrowed her eyes at him, steeling herself against the look of concern etched on his face. "Are you alright?"

"Don't call me that." she seethed. "It's Queen Elsa. And, no – I am quite far from alright. You wouldn't know from personal experience, but when a kingdom is under attack by a maniac, it can really put its ruler in a foul mood."

"I wasn't going to hurt anyone. It's just that I needed to see you, and this was the only way I could –"

"_This_ was the only way? Are you crazy?" Elsa cried. "Nevermind. I already know the answer to that question."

"What was I supposed to do instead?" he challenged.

"How about never see me again?"

"I couldn't do that. Not if there was a chance you might hurt yourself."

"Ah, yes. I forgot. You have a vested interest in me," Elsa said dryly.

"Elsa…"

"I might be carrying your child, after all. The future heir to the throne," she hissed.

"Elsa, please –"

"Tell me, Prince Hans – did the trip over here go smoothly? Was it as easy to find your way back here as it was to get the ice queen to lift her skirts so you could skewer her like a rare piece of meat?"

"Elsa, stop," he begged, looking positively tormented. "Please. I didn't mean any of tha—"

"Shut up!" she cried, throwing her arm out in front of her and blasting Hans with a surge of frost that would have taken his legs out from under him had he not held his own arms up in front of him to deflect it back in her direction. She stumbled out of harm's way, astonished by the quick work he made of her attempted assault on him.

"Elsa, you don't want to do this. You're angry and I understand that, but if you'll just listen to me, I can ex—"

"I'm not listening anymore, Hans! Whenever you open your mouth, you spit venom. The only way to get you to stop is to remove your fangs."

She was about to launch another attack, but he managed to strike first, encasing her hands in solid spheres of ice. The weight of them pulled her to the floor. She looked up at him, a mixture of fury and alarm in her face. He was swift, but more than that – he was precise. It took her a lifetime to learn how to control her powers. How was he able to do it in mere days?

He scrambled across the floor and dropped to his knees, grabbing her shoulders to hold her still.

"You can't expect me not to defend myself this time," he said, looking hurt and angry himself. It was then that she realized he still had no idea that his own body was turning against itself, and that it was slowly killing him. Elsa pressed her lips together and tried to focus on freeing herself. It should only have taken a moment or two, but he was too close. She was losing herself in his proximity.

"This was the only way I could see you," he insisted emphatically. "I couldn't very well stroll into town and tell the guards that I'm in love with their queen, not after everything that's happened. As far as everyone in Arendelle is concerned, I already tried that trick with their princess."

It was the first time he'd used that word in regards to his feelings for her. There was a very small window of time days ago when she wouldn't have doubted his feelings for her for a second. Now that one word was like a knife in her heart.

"Let me go," she ordered, gritting her teeth. She squirmed in his grip, still struggling to free her hands.

"I'm not letting you go," he panted, fighting to keep her bolted to the spot.

In an eruption of frost and light so bright both she and Hans had to close their eyes against it, Elsa was finally able to burst free from the orbs of ice. She flexed her fingers, letting out a gasp of relief.

Rising onto her knees, she reached up and drove her hands into Hans' hair. She pulled him violently towards her, and their mouths collided with such fervour that it made her ears ring. He buried his fingernails into her back as though he were going to tear her open.

"I love you," he breathed between one kiss and another. "Whether or not you believe me…"

He gathered her up in his arms and dragged her to her feet, his lips not leaving hers for a moment. She wouldn't let them. He quickly opened his jacket and undid several buttons of his shirt. Grabbing one of her hands, he coaxed it beneath the fabric. She spread out her fingers and lay her hand flush against his heart.

"I can't," she murmured. "This is how everything started."

Hans placed his hand over hers. "Everything," he agreed breathlessly.

The intensity and emotional agitation of their kisses escalated as rapidly as the storm their combined passionate turmoil generated. The books that had tumbled from their shelves during Hans and Elsa's brief physical altercation rode gusts of wind that took them from one end of the room to the other. Elsa wrapped one of the cords of the silver aiguillette that adorned Hans' jacket around her free hand, using it to wrench him closer. He moaned his approval. But then a standing candelabra nearby toppled over and skid noisily across the floor, rocking her back to her senses.

She released a strident cry of "No!", reigniting the struggle to extricate herself from his hold on her. He intertwined their fingers and continued to hold her hand to his chest with an iron grip.

"I can't do this anymore, Hans! I can't!" she wailed.

She shoved him hard, freeing herself just long enough to hastily erect a wall several feet high and more than a few feet wide between them. It was sloppily done, but it served its immediate purpose. She crumpled into a heap on the floor, physically and emotionally exhausted. She knew Hans could easily do away with the wall if he really wanted to, but he didn't.

"I can't afford to make the same mistake a third time," she said, her voice drawn and hoarse. She looked at Hans' distorted figure through the luminescent barrier.

"How could you let your parents say all those dreadful things to me?" she asked. Hans sat down on the floor with his back to the wall and crossed his long legs.

"Elsa…I…"

"How could you just stand there and –"

Winded from their scuffle, Hans swallowed hard. "I can't explain it to you without pushing you even farther away."

"Maybe that's for the best," came Elsa's weary reply.

"Very well, then," he said sadly. "When I first came to Arendelle to attend your coronation, I merely planned to be the vessel for whoever you believed was your perfect match. I would follow your lead, be the man you wanted me to be. But no one could get near you. None of the other members of royalty or visiting dignitaries in attendance knew a thing about you. To be honest, if it hadn't been for my accidental run-in with your sister, I'm not sure how far my plan would have taken me. Anna wasn't the one I was after. I wanted you."

"I was preferable," Elsa chuckled bitterly.

"Yes," Hans answered ruefully, not sounding surprised in the least that Anna hadn't left a single detail out when she was filling Elsa in on what had happened in that room he'd left her to die in. "You were preferable."

"What does this have to do with anything?" she asked tightly. "I'm not in the mood for stories. Just get to the point."

"People are complex. You have a good and kind heart, but you were ready to kill those two men that night in the ice palace. You wouldn't have gotten much satisfaction out of it, but you would have done it had I not shown up and talked some sense into you. I had to follow your lead. I was the good guy who sympathized with you, the good guy who would only kill you if I absolutely had to, and eventually circumstances gave way to opportunity. I suspect you knew that."

Elsa bit her lip to keep from crying. She couldn't see for the tears in her eyes. "I did," she croaked.

"You asked me to take care of your sister. You knew it had come down to your life or the lives of your people. I took advantage of that. You were waiting out there for me to kill you, weren't you?"

"Why are you telling me all this?" she asked miserably, pretending she didn't hear his question. She was too ashamed of her answer. "What does this have to do with what happened in that room with your parents? With the way you treated me?"

"Don't you see? I was playing a part in that room with my parents that day, too. They had this preconceived notion of who I was. I had to follow their lead. I had to be the bad guy, - the spoiled, royal brat - because that's who they thought they were dealing with, but there had to be a delicate balance. I wanted to get you out of that place alive. I had to trick them into thinking they were getting what they wanted the way someone like me would give it to them, otherwise they'd know…They'd figure out that…"

…_you loved me._

Elsa wondered if the gentle snowfall lightly coating the floor of the library was the corporeal manifestation of her grief or Hans'.

"Tell me, Elsa – what would Anna have said had you agreed to meet me? I mean if I just waltzed into town whistling redemption and you decided to sit down and chat with me, what would Anna do?"

"She'd remind me that you were the man who tried to kill me. That you fooled us both once and now you were trying to do it again." Elsa admitted reluctantly.

"This way Anna gets to be right and you don't lose a shred of your integrity in her eyes or the eyes of your kingdom for meeting with a traitor."

Oh, God. His twisted thought process was starting to make sense to her.

"And what do you get?" she asked softly.

"I get to see you. I get to make sure you're not thinking about blindly running out into another storm."

Elsa buried her face in her folded arms.

"You're not pregnant," Hans said after several long moments of silence. "Well, I mean at least I'm pretty sure you're not."

"How could you possibly be 'pretty sure' of that? In between lying about being the hero, and lying about being the villain, did you also lie to someone once or twice about being a doctor?"

"You're just going to have to trust me."

"You really have to stop using that word. It's almost comedic coming from you now."

"Does that mean you're smiling right now?"

Elsa rolled her eyes. Yes, she was smiling - but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"It's embarrassing and kind of disgusting. I'd really rather not get into it," he explained.

"Well, now I _must_ know," Elsa said, practically on tenterhooks. She waited patiently for him to get over his bashfulness despite how desperately she needed deliverance from the private hell that had been days of wondering if she was or wasn't…

"Fine. If you _must_ know, nothing came out," he said, sounding absolutely mortified.

Puzzled, Elsa turned around in her seat and peered through the wall that separated them. His back was still to her, and his shoulders were drawn up defensively.

"I don't know what that means," she said.

Hans sighed. "Nothing came out. Nothing that…ugh. I can't do this. I don't know why, but…when we were…"

"Yes?"

"And then we…finished…"

"Okay…?"

"Well…nothing came out."

Elsa's brows knitted together as she tried to add two and two together. Once she finally managed to figure out what the "nothing" he was referring to was, her eyes lit up.

"Oh!" she blurted. "Oh, I get it! So you have a problem with -"

"Hey, wait a second!" he interrupted, sounding thoroughly indignant. "I don't have a problem with _anything_! It only happened that one time. Or didn't happen, as the case may be. Do you think there's a chance that maybe you froze more than just my heart?"

Despite the earnestness in his voice, Elsa burst into peals of laughter. God, it felt so good to laugh again. Only moments ago she doubted she'd ever laugh again.

"I'm glad you find it so funny," he snorted.

"How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"How do you know nothing came out?" Elsa asked with great interest.

"I just know," he groaned. "Are you enjoying yourself? Because this is a helluva way to get back at me."

"Oh, I'm enjoying myself alright," she giggled. Hans started to laugh, too. They barely noticed when the barrier separating them started to come apart and evaporate into the air.

Being locked up alone in a room together seemed to work well for the two of them.

Once their laughter subsided, Elsa reluctantly asked aloud the question neither of them were sure they really welcomed an answer to just yet.

"Hans…" she started softly, her hand searching along the snow-covered floor for his. "What happens now?"

The tips of his fingers toyed with hers. He tilted his head back against hers and sighed.

"Now, Your Grace? Now we open those doors and you order your guards to arrest me for crimes committed against Arendelle."


	21. Thirteen Gliding Principles

So.

It's been a rough couple of weeks for me. I do still hope you enjoy this chapter. I kind of hope my personal shit doesn't seep in there and ruin it for you.

Take good care and thanks for reading.

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 21**  
THIRTEEN GLIDING PRINCIPLES

Elsa's hand was wrapped carefully in Hans', buried beneath several inches of snow. He was holding on as though the simple act of letting go would be enough to lose her completely. In a way she found it comforting – it meant that he had given whatever his plan was a little more thought than his "I'm just going to stand here and wait for the roof to cave in on me" plan from days ago.

He was afraid. His child-like arrogance would keep him from admitting it to her, but with his back still against hers, she could feel him trembling, and she knew from personal experience that it wasn't because of the cold. And so when he squeezed her hand, she squeezed back with all her might. She was afraid, too.

"You could escape, you know," Elsa offered. "I could tell everyone that you…or I…Maybe I faint, or I…I don't know…Something happens to me. I look the other way and you…you slip away. You vanish –"

"Elsa," Hans interjected calmly.

"No, listen," she said, crawling around his body through the snow so she could sit in front of him and look him in the eyes. "You could escape. You could take Sitron with you. Anna has taken very good care of him since you…" The faint smile on his face when she mentioned his horse's name gave her hope that he might reconsider his decision. Her eyes welled with tears. "So you see, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have Sitron back. He could take you far away from here, away from your family and this curse I placed on you –"

Hans took hold of her arms, but she shook him off of her. "Hans, you don't have to do this. You don't have to –"

"Elsa, please," he said insistently, reaching for her again. "Please stop."

"No," Elsa cried standing and crossing the room, her shoes and the hem of her dress making a mess of the perfect blanket of snow that surrounded them. "My guards will take you away, and then what? A trial?" she asked. "I'm not like you, Hans. I can't lie the way you can. And I don't mean that to be cruel. It's just a fact. I can't pretend that you and I never…" she pressed her lips together and looked away.

Hans got to his feet. He took a few steps towards her but she held her hand up, signalling for him to stay back. "I can't pretend I never loved you," she said brokenly. "You would expect me to choose between having you executed or locked away for the rest of your life? To stand in front of the people I'll surely grow to resent one day and publicly hand you your fate, never letting the world know that in doing so I'd be sentencing myself to the same?"

"Hey," Hans chuckled gently, closing the distance between them and pulling her close to him. "Don't be so dramatic. Not that I'm not flattered by the outpouring of emotion. I've never…" Hans paused. Elsa felt his Adam's apple leap against the crown of her head. "I've never really had that before. It's nice."

Elsa raised her arms and held him, sniffling into his jacket.

"More than nice," Hans revised.

"You're accusing me of being dramatic after you careened into Arendelle in the middle of the night like a red tornado and threatened to freeze everything in sight if I didn't talk to you?" Elsa, feeling positively wicked, couldn't help but smile. "I had to have the palace completely evacuated. Poor Kristoff probably had to chain Anna between two stone pillars somewhere to keep her from marching in here ahead of me and tearing you apart."

"She did mention something earlier about wanting to rip off my limbs," Hans mused. "She really does hate me, doesn't she?"

Elsa smirked, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her dress. "On a scale of one to ten? I'd say I can't count that high."

"She has that in common with my brothers. What a shame she's taken," Hans said, crossing the room and sitting on one of the wooden benches against the wall.

Elsa smiled. "Granted, Kristoff is no Prince Mouth-Breather or Prince Picks-His-Nose-and-Eats-It, but he's very good to Anna. He loves her a great deal, and she absolutely adores him."

"You're happy for her?" Hans asked, reaching into the snow to unearth a book lying at his feet. He held it in front of him, seeming lost in thought. Or maybe time.

"Of course I'm happy for her! What kind of a question is that?" Elsa laughed. "She's my sister. I want nothing more than for her to be happy."

Elsa slowly approached the bench he sat on. She lowered herself beside him. "Hans?"

"Hm?"

"You told me your family hated you because you blackmailed them. But that was a lie, wasn't it?"

"Elsa, I can't –"

"Hans, I know that when it comes to lying you can't seem to help yourself. I know that. I don't like it, but I'm willing to take the good with the...um…less than good…if you at least try to be honest with _me_," she implored.

He slumped back in his seat and sighed. "Elsa, there were reasons I didn't argue with you when you were going on and on about what a rotten child I was, and how my parents were trying to contain my predisposition towards evil, blah, blah, blah."

Elsa still felt ashamed that she hadn't given him the chance to respond to her accusations before completely shutting him down. She felt a little sick to her stomach revisiting it, but she felt that she owed it to him to listen to him just then.

"I'm trying to protect you," he explained earnestly, "And I'm doing a rather terrible job at it so far, I know –"

"You're trying to do too many things at once. Let me help you. I know I can occasionally come off as a nervous thing, but I'm strong. Much stronger than all the lip-biting and hand-wringing might suggest," Elsa said, placing a hand over his.

"The truth is that I can't really blame my brothers for their treatment of me. I mean not entirely. They just follow my parents' lead. More so Alma's than my father's. People expect different things from a man than a woman, I guess. A king can get away with withholding fatherly affection. He's a king, after all, and it's expected that he bring up strong, independent sons who will one day rule over their own kingdoms. Rulers are ruled by nothing and no one, and that goes for their emotions. But people expect women to be more...nurturing, I guess. Alma was anything but nurturing, at least when it came to me."

Hans closed his eyes.

"My father is the monster. Alma is merely a…" his voice trailed off. Elsa watched him expectantly. Surely that wasn't the end of the story. Minutes passed and Elsa finally spoke.

"Alma is your stepmother," she said, finally noticing that he only ever referred to the queen by her first name. Hans nodded.

"Yes. It's not why she hates me so much, though. There are plenty of people out there who marry into families with children and love them as though they were their own."

"Then what happened?" she asked, though halfway through the question, she realized exactly what the problem was. "Oh…" she whispered.

"Yes. My father strayed, to put it delicately. Elsa, I'm not comfortable telling you all this. It isn't really conducive to keeping you safe," he said. "It was no small task convincing my parents that you didn't know anything."

"I _don't _know anything," Elsa pointed out.

"You know that, and I know that. But my parents…Well, I'm sure this may come as a bit of a surprise to you, but they have some trust issues when it comes to the baby of the family," he teased.

"You don't say," she replied.

"I had to give them a secret for a secret. Why do you think I had to tell them I suspected you might be pregnant?" Hans asked, smirking. "For kicks?"

"Wishful thinking?" Elsa offered, grinning.

"Please," he said, turning his nose up at her.

"So if anyone asks, I'll play dumb," Elsa said.

"I thought you said you weren't very good at lying," he remarked. Elsa shrugged her shoulders.

"I can learn. You can teach me."

Hans smiled sadly, reaching for Elsa. He swept some of her hair off her face and tucked it carefully behind her ear. "I'm afraid there won't be any time for that."

Elsa leaned into his light touch. "You're forgetting something. How could your parents get anywhere near me now? Yes, trapped in that room I was at their mercy, and at the mercy of whatever spell was cast on that room to keep me from escaping. But out here I'm literally in my element. I have miles and miles of natural resources at my fingertips – mountains, trees, lakes..." Elsa exclaimed, gesturing all around herself enthusiastically. "_I'm_ the powerful one now. If anyone is going to need protecting, it's going to be them."

Hans raised his eyebrows, looking pleased to see her getting her back up, but for whatever reason, trying his best not to show it by sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.

"My father..." Hans began hesitantly, "…he…um…"

He wasn't talking fast enough for her. She needed him to fill her in on everything so she could convince him that it was all going to be okay. Whatever it was, it was all going to be okay. It had to be, because she knew the emotional strain on her if she had to put him to death or try to live out the rest of her life with Hans locked up in a prison carved out of a hole in the ground mere miles away for the rest of his would cause her to freeze every living thing on the planet.

Hans fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt, then the buttons on his jacket.

"My father has taken a…liking to you."

Elsa laughed nervously. "A liking to me? What does that mean? Isn't that a good thing? I mean being liked is a good thing, isn't it?"

"Christ, no. It's not a good thing," he sighed, frustrated.

"Please, Hans. You can't send me into a battle blindfolded," she pleaded gently but unrelentingly.

"Elsa…"

"Yes?"

Hans wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, cupped the back of her head. He kissed her softly, chastely, and she folded into him. Her first thought was that he was kissing her to shut her up, to avoid answering her questions. But there was something about the way he was holding her, something about the kiss itself. It felt as though he was kissing her goodbye, and it frightened her. The bench beneath them crackled as the electric blue threads of the freeze traveled against the grain of the wood. When their lips parted, he pulled away from her completely and stood up. He turned his back to her.

"I lied earlier when I said my father strayed. I lied to you again."

Elsa was quiet. She was too worried just then to make a joke to mask her disappointment as she normally would whenever he admitted to lying to her. Hans clasped his hands behind his back, a posture he usually adopted when he was about to do or say something cocky. But this time she noticed that his knuckles were white and sharp as teeth.

"My brothers were told that my mother was a young woman named Hansa. She tended to all the fireplaces in the east wing of the palace. The story was that one morning Hansa purposely lingered too long in one of my father's dens. She seduced him and…"

Hans' arms dropped to his sides. Elsa couldn't see his face, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. Her head was swimming.

"Alma, of course, had no choice but to take my father for his word. It wasn't his fault he became victim to a crafty, little whore, after all. Men have urges and as queen Alma couldn't make herself available to my father every single time his urges got the better of him. It was all a case of bad timing. So Alma forgave my father his indiscretion and, being the kind-hearted woman that she was, generously offered to raise her husband's bastard child as if he were her own. Then mere hours after Hansa gave birth, they dragged her down to the bowels of the palace and had her executed."

"Hans," Elsa breathed. She stood from the bench and reached for his hand, but it was Hans this time who squared his shoulders to alert her to the fact that he didn't want to be touched.

"I'm not finished," he said stonily.

"I'm sorry," she replied softly, returning reluctantly to her spot on the bench and folding her hands in her lap. "Please continue."

"So my brothers and I grew up believing my mother was an evil, manipulative, little sex pixie who tried to single-handedly destroy the royal family. There was a time when I thought that was a perfectly valid reason for their lousy treatment of me, and there was a time when I thought I didn't deserve any better."

Hans walked across the room and sat on the bench opposite Elsa's. He stared down at the snow between his boots.

"My grandfather is the only reason I'm standing here today. He saved my life. He's one of the only people I've ever known who's never lied to me. He was the only person I ever totally trusted. He told me about my mother. My real mother."

"Hansa?" Elsa asked. Hans still wouldn't look at her. She wasn't emotionally equipped for any of this. Her immediate instinct had been to hold him, to stroke his hair and tell him he could trust her. But then she remembered that she was still keeping a secret from him. A secret that still had the potential to kill him.

God, how would she ever be able to tell him the truth now?

"Hansa was not my mother. She was some poor innocent who had no family to miss her or ask after her when she vanished, set up as a decoy to protect my father. My real mother's name was Cilia."

_Wait, what?_

"I don't underst—"

"My mother's name is – or _was_, rather - Cilia. Actually, her full name was Cilia Isá Engström Westergård."

Elsa's eyes narrowed. "Westergård?" she murmured. "That would mean –"

"It means that one of my brothers has no idea that his father raped his wife," Hans bit out. He looked down at his hand, noticing he was still holding the book he'd found in the snow. He hurled it towards the rose window at the other end of the library.

Elsa shuddered, groaning her disgust. Mistaking her revulsion as being aimed at him, Hans abruptly leapt to his feet, flinging an arm out to his side to create a path in the snow. Elsa stumbled through the drifts Hans sent in her direction, not easy to do in mules and a floor-length dress, and had to practically throw her entire body between Hans and the doors to stop him from leaving.

"Where are you going?" she asked breathlessly. Hans ran a shaking hand through his hair and across his stubbled jaw, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling in an effort to avoid looking her in the eye. He held his other hand out in front of him with the intention of melting the ice Elsa had applied to the locks to keep people from entering the library during their "hostage negotiations". Employing Hans' earlier trick, but managing to do him one better, she sealed his wrists together. Before he could break free, she quickly slipped beneath his locked hands and into his arms, grasping him tightly around his waist and clutching at the fabric of his jacket.

"Stop it," she said in as authoritative a voice as she could muster under the circumstances. "Hans, please -"

She tucked his head beneath her chin and squeezed him hard as though she were trying to wring the shame and grief from his rigid body. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that if whatever darkness was inside him, whatever ugliness he'd been harbouring was brought out into the open, she could free him. She could save him from freezing himself to death.

To her relief, and the heartbreak that tainted it, Hans' entire body finally slackened against hers. His knees buckled and the sheer weight of his anguish pulled him to the ground, taking Elsa along with him. Tears streamed down the length of his fair and lightly freckled face. She kissed his forehead and the tears became harmless, glinting snowflakes that dispersed with a soft breeze summoned by a flourish of her fingers.

If only she could just as effortlessly banish the ache in the heart that beat inside them both, she mourned.


	22. Always, Ever, Only

So.

Two updates in a week! What?!

Originally this chapter was the second half of the last chapter, so if it's a little disjointed, that would be why. Let's hope that isn't the case. If it is - eep! - I'm sorry.

Thanks again for all the reviews, PMs and your all-around awesomeness. It's so very much appreciated.

Lots of love,

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 22  
**ALWAYS, EVER, ONLY

Kristoff looked out the small window from the small cellar he and Anna had been escorted to (or dragged to, in Anna's case). There were about half a dozen guards keeping watch over the small house they'd been stashed in. Two guards stood by the cellar door, and another two paced in front of the two windows. The latter were there for Anna's benefit – Kristoff was far too large to even think about trying to crawl through one of the windows, but Anna was just the right size and as slippery as an eel. He wouldn't put it past her to make an attempt to escape, and neither had Elsa, which is why they were locked up in this cellar in the first place.

Anna was sitting in the corner of the cellar on a large vat of fermenting cider. Both her hands were occupied with holding up a hank of yarn to feed to Gerda's knitting project – a blanket for her brother's new grandson. Kristoff was silently grateful that Gerda had thought to bring along something for the two of them to occupy their hands with. They chatted quietly with each other, and he even heard Anna laugh a couple of times.

"Maybe I'll be making a blanket like this for your little one soon," Gerda said quietly to her. Kristoff turned his head quickly to look at them, blushing furiously. Anna did the same.

"So I still don't see any snow," Kristoff said, desperately wanting to change the subject. "Just soldiers' feet. That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"I guess," Anna said softly. "Do you think they're still talking? I feel like we've been down here forever."

"We've barely been down here a couple of hours. At least it's cozy. And we've got everything we need down here. Cider…preserves…um…"

"Yarn," Gerda called out, holding up her knitting needles.

"Yarn," Kristoff said.

"A reindeer," Anna said flatly, gesturing towards Sven sleeping soundly on the ground between them, surrounded by several empty preserve jars like a drunk passed out on the floor of a tavern. "What happens when he has to…you know?"

"Poop?" Gerda offered, giggling.

Kristoff looked at Anna, jerking a thumb towards the older woman. "Did she get into the cider?"

"Poop!" she cackled.

"What else is there to do?" Anna asked grumpily. "Lead a sing-along? I'm not in the mood for singing. Singing just reminds me of _him_. Then I think about what he did, and what he almost did, and then I want to figure out a way to get out of here so I can march over to that palace, throw the doors open and run one of Gerda's knitting needles right through his…_unf!_" Anna growled, violently stabbing at the air in front of her.

Kristoff leaned against the wall and watched her with amusement. He loved when she got her back up this way, even if it made it a little harder to keep her from acting impulsively – like, say, barreling through half a dozen armed soldiers while brandishing a knitting needle.

"I know you don't want to talk about him, but do you think maybe there's a teensy, tiny little mystery we should try to solve?" Kristoff asked. Anna sighed.

"I don't know how or why he suddenly has those powers. I can only guess based on that brand new white streak he's sporting that someone's frozen his heart. Maybe he attacked Elsa and that's how she hurt her head. Then in retaliation she froze his heart. Or at least the big, black hole where his heart would have been had he ever had one," Anna snapped.

"But that didn't happen to you, did it? I mean when your heart was frozen you just got weaker and weaker…" Kristoff didn't like remembering it. He'd never been so scared or so sad in his life, and that included when he almost slipped off the side of that cliff after watching his beloved, freshly-lacquered sled explode into flames on the rocks below.

Anna held her hands out to Gerda who unwound another couple of feet of yarn to work with. "No, it didn't. Well, sort of. I remember the floors, the walls and all the windows freezing, and all these icicles just growing out of everywhere like tree branches. All the ice was following me while I ran through the halls to get to you, trying to trap me. It was like the ice knew I was trying to find you."

"We found each other," Kristoff said in a rare moment of speaking his heart in front of someone other than Anna. Anna smiled shyly. Gerda burst into another fit of giggles.

"Maybe it wasn't Elsa, then. Maybe he…I don't know. Maybe he went to see a witch or a sorcerer, or took a book of spells out of the library. Or maybe -"

"No, no." Anna shook her head. "I'm pretty sure it has something to do with Elsa. Why else would he want to see her? If he wanted to exact some sort of revenge on Elsa, the best way for him to do it would be to attack us. Us ordinaries can't protect ourselves. Hans is a sadist and he doesn't have to hide who he really is anymore. Everyone_ knows_ who he is. There's nothing keeping him from turning Arendelle into Pompeii. Except, you know, colder." Anna shuddered. "Ugh. His thought process is starting to make sense to me. If this was a horror novel, right now would be the time you'd need to start sprinkling me with holy water."

"What do you suppose he wants to talk to Elsa about?" Kristoff asked. "I mean if he's just here to talk like you said."

Anna shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. What I want to know is how he managed to have such amazing control over his powers. He walked across the fjord without freezing the entire thing through. When Elsa crossed the fjord she froze all of Arendelle." Her eyes widened, "Hey! Do you think we could ask Grand Pabbie about this?"

Kristoff crossed his arms. "Right. Over Hans' dead body."

"Don't you mean _your_ dead body?" Anna smirked.

"No. Over Hans' dead body. Grand Pabbie would insist on examining Hans himself, and there's no way I'd lead the guy you just referred to as a sadist right to him. You're not the only one with family to protect, you know."

Anna frowned, looking disappointed. "You're right. Geez, I hate him. And I hate whoever's letting him run around free after everything he did to us."

Kristoff turned back to stare out the window and Anna went back to watching Gerda knit surprisingly well for a woman buzzed on cider. For a while the only sounds that could be heard in the cellar were the clicking of the knitting needles and Sven's snoring.

"Okay, don't kill me, but is there even the slightest chance that Elsa…"

"If you say what I think you're going to say," Anna said coolly, "then I can't guarantee I won't try to strangle you with this yarn."

"So you _have_ thought about it," Kristoff replied.

Anna sighed. "Yes, I entertained the idea for a whole half a second. Hans is gorgeous and charismatic, but less so since trying to chop my sister's head off. That bump on her head would have had to wipe out her memory, or that influenza epidemic was actually an outbreak of stupid."

"So he didn't give any hints during your little romantic reunion about what he wanted to see her about?"

"No," Anna said carefully, confused by his less than subtle tone of sarcasm. "Well, I mean he did ask how she was, which I kind of thought was a little weird. But maybe he was just making conversation."

"Making conversation?" Kristoff wouldn't look at her. "Were you leading him to Elsa or were you out for a midnight stroll?"

Anna grinned.

"Kristoff?"

"Hm," he grunted.

Anna stood and walked towards him, stepping over one of Sven's antlers and almost taking Gerda's knitting project with her.

"You wouldn't happen to be jealous, would you?" she teased.

"Pfft. No," Kristoff snorted. "Jealous of what?"

"Well, something's bothering you." Anna said, slinking around him to get a better look at his face. Kristoff's eyes flit in her direction then quickly went back to looking out the window. "Come on, Kristoff. Those boots out there can't possibly be _that_ interesting. Is this about Hans?"

Kristoff didn't answer. Anna laughed.

"Oh, my God! This _is_ about Hans!"

"You talk about him _all the time_!" Kristoff finally exploded.

"_You_ were the one who brought him up! And I do _not_ talk about him all the time," Anna replied indignantly. "And the few times I _have_ talked about him, I've also mentioned what a crazy freak he is."

"And how handsome he is, and how charming he is, and that other word you used…_charismatic_. You talk about how charismatic he is," Kristoff muttered, still staring out the window.

"Yes, he's all those things. But - _hello?_ \- Crazy freak?" she reiterated.

"I'm the complete opposite of that guy. I'm not handsome, I'm not charming, and I'm not that other thing. Charismatic. I'm not charismatic," Kristoff said gloomily.

"Technically charismatic and charming mean the same thi—"

"Great. Thanks."

"Oh, come on, Kristoff!" Anna noticed the yarn hanging from the hank was starting to get tangled up in one of Sven's antlers, but without any free hands, she was sort of at the mercy of both the sleeping reindeer's movements and gravity. "You know I think you're all of those things, save the crazy freak part. You're _very_ handsome –"

"My nose is too big –"

"And charming –"

"..and I spat on you –"

"And you're the only person in the universe I'd want to share a blanket knit by a drunk lady-in-waiting with," Anna said, holding her yarn-wrapped hands up. Kristoff smiled.

"You," Anna said, standing on the tips of her toes and brushing her nose against his. "Just you. Always you. Ever you."

"Only you," Kristoff murmured, leaning over to kiss her. "...you crazy freak."

**oooOOOOooo**

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," Elsa said, still cradling Hans against her chest. His whole body was trembling. "Your parents' sins aren't yours. They turned your brothers against you to protect themselves. That doesn't excuse your brothers from their behaviour, and it doesn't excuse you from yours, but –"

_What is wrong with you? This isn't the time to bring up that day on the fjord. I really am terrible at this,_ she thought miserably. He still hadn't spoken a word, and she wondered if she should keep talking or shut up already and just keep holding on to him.

"Whose wife…?" she asked awkwardly, trying to get away from the subject of Hans' previous crimes.

"Nikolaj, my oldest brother. He was named after my grandfather. The one who saved me. The one who loved me."

_I love you,_ she wanted to tell him.

"He threatened my father. He was ready to disown him, to expose him. Sometimes I wish he had – I wonder if I was worth it. My life cost two others theirs. It very nearly cost you yours, too."

Elsa had been stroking his hair, but she stopped to wave away the ice still linking his wrists together. "That's a horrible way of looking at it, Hans," she said.

"It's true, isn't it?" he bit back, rubbing his wrists.

"No, it _isn't_," Elsa insisted, beginning to lose her patience. Not with Hans himself, but with the mess his family had made of him. "Your grandfather saved your life because he loved you. He loved you long before he met you. He knew your life was a life worth saving before you even began living it."

Hans said nothing – simply strengthened his hold on her, spreading his fingers wide so he could touch as much of her as possible in a single embrace.

"Do you know how Cilia…?"

"That I don't know. She may have died in childbirth, she may have been sick, or maybe my parents did away with her as they'd done with Hansa…I just know that my mother died not long after I was born, and that Nikolaj lived life as a widower for some time before he remarried at my parents' insistence. My grandfather told me Nikolaj was never the same after Cilia passed. He never forgave himself for not being here when she died. He'd been away for over a year serving in the SOK, and sometimes I wonder how different things might have turned out had he been around. Maybe my father wouldn't have been able to get anywhere near Cilia, or maybe it would have all been covered up and Nikolaj would have ended up raising me as his own son without ever being the wiser," Hans said wistfully. "My brother loves his children. Maybe I could have grown up being loved that way, too."

"Your name…" Elsa started.

"Cilia gave me my name. Alma told me that she and Enoch were the ones to give me my name to remind me where I came from, and that I was only a member of the family because she and my father allowed me to be. But Grandfather told me that it was my mother who gave me the name – after Hansa of course, but for entirely different reasons. Cilia wanted to honour Hansa's memory when no one else would," he explained, sounding so very tired. This wasn't at all how Elsa wanted to spend her last visit with him.

It _would_ be their last visit, wouldn't it?

Now was not the time to be thinking about that. There was a good chance she'd start to cry, and she refused to cry while Hans looked like he was on the brink of doing the same again.

"None of your brothers know about Cilia?"

"No," Hans replied, his voice trembling lightly. "The only person who knows is Alma, and even she doesn't know the whole story. She has no idea that Cilia was raped. My dear father yanked out the ol' 'she seduced me because she just couldn't help herself' card from his bag of tricks. I've kept that significant detail to myself to give me a little leverage over my father." Hans glanced up at Elsa. She stared back at him silently.

"You're thinking how repugnant it is of me to use my mother's rape as a means of keeping my father in line, aren't you?" he said, shrugging out of her arms and taking back his own.

Elsa shook her head. "No," she answered honestly. "That would be looking at things too simply. You've done what you've needed to do to survive. How could I fault you for that?"

Hans' face split into a smile. "I guess you can't. You know, maybe you could also see fit to forgive me for –"

Elsa cut him off, recognizing his need for a change of subject. "Yeah, no. That isn't going to happen. You were surviving perfectly fine without a crown on your head or a throne under your a—"

"Goodness, what is it with Arendelle women and that word?" Hans asked, grinning.

"Funny how we only ever seem to use it around you," Elsa replied, touching his chin affectionately.

Hans grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet.

"Listen, I feel like we could be making better use of our time together. And I really need to take a bit of a break from talking about the Westergård Family Freak Show. So please, let's not think for a little while."

Elsa bit her lip, not sure it was a good idea when she still had so many more questions. Not to mention they still hadn't sorted out what was going to happen once their little meeting was over. "Well...Maybe just for a little while. We still have a lot to discuss."

She knew she should have at least left him long enough to let Kai or the guards know she had things under control, but she didn't want to lose any time with Hans. She was being so selfish. Loving him was making her selfish. What kind of a ruler puts her own happiness before those of her people? She'd already let them down once when she ran away to the North Mountain.

No, she definitely couldn't do this aga –

A ball of snow struck the side of her head. Her eyes narrowed and she turned to look at Hans who was holding his hand out palm-up, already summoning his powers to conjure a second snowball. He smiled smugly.

"Oh, please," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Very well, then. Get ready to get knocked on your a—"

Another snowball hit her in the head. She glared at him.

"Less stall, more ball," Hans ordered.

Elsa smiled mischievously. "Fine. Let's do this."


	23. Words that Start with F and C

So.

I don't know how the hell I managed it (access to too much sugar is my guess), but I managed to get a third chapter up in less than a week. I'm quite manic, and it's...erm...kind of smutty. I really hope it isn't all the hell over the place. Please do let me know if it's a disaster. I'm sure I'll be returning to it in the next day or so to sort it out after a little sleep.

Swears ahoy.

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 23**  
WORDS THAT START WITH "F" AND "C"

"I don't know if I have a favourite book. That one you have in your hands - _The Devil's Elixirs_ – I liked that one, and there are a few short stories I've enjoyed. I mostly read plays. I like the odd poetry collection. What about you?"

"I've read folktales and books about mythology growing up more than anything else. Believe it or not, I've only ever been in here a handful of times in my life. My parents usually picked out my books for me."

Hans and Elsa lay in the snow on their stomachs flipping through various books that had fallen off the shelves during their snowball fight that evening. Hans was skimming the pages of a book about birds while she examined the cover of _The Devil's Elixirs _by a Prussian gentleman named E.T.A. Hoffmann_._

Elsa wondered if this was what courting couples did. Was it socially unacceptable to lie side-by-side the way they were just then? How close would they have been allowed to sit on a chaise or bench together? Would they have been permitted to hold hands? Kristoff and Anna held hands almost all the time, in public and in the privacy of the palace. Were queens allowed to do the same thing or were they assigned a different set of rules when it came to being courted by suitors?

Not that Hans was a suitor or anything. Definitely not. Now _that_ would be socially unacceptable.

She glanced across at Hans. Beneath the rose window, he was his most perfect and honest self - a spectrum of blues, from light to dark, cast across his handsome face by the light of the moon that poured into the library. He had taken off his jacket so Elsa could lie on it and she smiled to herself, occasionally leaning her face closer to it to enjoy the scent and feel of it beneath her under the pretense of wanting to take a closer look at the pages of a book than was logical. He probably thought she was nearsighted by now. She squirmed a little against the jacket, squeezing her legs together as tightly as she could when a small frisson of heat moved through them.

No one would have approved of her thoughts just then. She smiled to herself, enjoying the feeling of being close to Hans without touching him. Anticipating what they might do to each other was almost as pleasurable as actually doing it. _Almost_, she thought.

She absently opened the book in front of her. Hans reached across and snatched it out of her hand, holding it up in the air and out of her reach.

"What are you doing?" she laughed.

Hans wagged a finger at her. "This is inappropriate reading material for a lady of your age and sensibilities, Your Grace."

"You just told me you liked that book."

"Yes, I did. But I'm much older than you are. And far worldlier."

"You're two years older than me," Elsa said flatly.

"_Two whole years_. That's a huge age difference! You know, you can learn an awful lot in two years," Hans said, still holding the book aloft while pretending to examine the cuticles on his other hand.

"You can learn a lot in two weeks," Elsa smiled. "Or two days."

Hans leaned in until they were touching noses. "Or two hours," he murmured.

"Yes," Elsa whispered. "Two hours."

She made a grab for the book. He quickly rolled away from her and got to his feet, laughing at her failed attempt to throw him for a loop.

"Whoops! Looks like you haven't learned _that_ much yet," he said. Elsa stood and reached for him. He dodged her again.

"Hans!" she laughed. "Come on! You can't tell me it's inappropriate and then not let me see it! What's so inappropriate?"

Hans' eyes widened with mock melodramatics. "Are you kidding? It's called _The Devil's Elixirs_! This book is filled with all sorts of sordidness! Murder -"

Elsa took a few threatening steps towards him.

"- political intrigue, corrupt religious figures -" he continued, undaunted. Elsa tried to grab a fistful of his shirtsleeve but he managed to side-step her.

"Hans, come on!" she pleaded.

"- satanic possession, and –"

Elsa lowered her head and dashed forward like a battering ram. This time Hans wasn't fast enough to evade the attack. She crashed into him, knocking the wind right out of him as the two of them struck the bookshelf he'd been standing in front of.

"—intense sensual desires," he choked out before doubling over to catch his breath. Elsa snatched the book from him.

"It sounds fantastic," she said, dropping it at their feet. She yanked Hans up by his shoulder and pushed him into the bookshelf with both hands. She pulled his head down to hers, kissing him almost cruelly. He groaned into her mouth, grabbing her braided hair and wrapping it once over his knuckles before tugging it hard. She gasped, awarding him the opportunity to force his tongue into her mouth.

He lifted one knee between both of hers to raise the hems of her skirts high enough that he could reach down and grab them. He gathered them up around her hips and she found herself taking the folds of fabric from him so that she could free up one of his hands. He started to nip along her jaw, bite and suck as if from marrow the length of her neck. She held him to her, probably tighter than she should have, and wound her fingers in his hair. Her mind was almost entirely preoccupied with wondering what he was going to do with the hand she'd returned to him.

He wrapped an arm around her, running his fingers roughly down her bodice in search of any buttons, ribbons or other fasteners he could undo. He managed to pluck open three or four with just the one hand – enough to loosen it so that Elsa could pull the dress off over her head if she wanted to. She hesitated to do so, though.

She still couldn't know with one hundred percent certainty that she wasn't pregnant. If she wasn't, she didn't want to tempt fate, no matter how much she wanted to be with him.

He rolled his hips forward, and the movement lifted her heels off the ground. Elsa squeezed her eyes closed and swallowed the lump in her throat, wrapping one of her legs around the back of his knee to keep her balance. He hoisted her up in his arms and swung her around, switching places with her. Her back slammed against the bookshelf and she cried out in surprise, sending a surge into his body that emanated back at her through the scar on his chest. He moaned thickly in her ear and, using the arm around her waist to cushion her spine, began to thrust against her.

"Take off your dress," he breathed against her lips. "I'll help you."

That's when Elsa felt his icy fingers begin to follow the middle seam of her silk drawers. She knew she had to stop what was happening before there was no going back. Once she'd feel his bare skin pressed against hers, she'd be lost to herself.

"Hans, we need to stop," she finally gasped, wriggling out from between the bookshelf and his rather unyielding body. She ran her hands down the front of her dress, focusing on smoothing out the wrinkles to avoid looking at his face. Hans leaned his forehead against the bookshelf and looked across at her, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You're scared," he said.

"I'm not scared. It's just…we should be cautious."

Hans nodded. "Yes. Absolutely. Let's be cautious."

He straightened his trousers and waistcoat then picked up his jacket from the snowy floor and pulled it on. He bent over and scooped up the book they'd been fighting over.

"Come on," he said, turning his head and smiling at Elsa. "We'll sit down and enjoy each other's company in a…less adult way."

Elsa laughed. She followed him to one of two wingback armchairs beneath the rose window. He sat down and held out his hand for her.

"Sit with me," he said. Elsa eyed him suspiciously and he chuckled. "Oh, come now. I promise not to do anything lascivious."

She approached him and sat across his lap, nestling against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. He opened the book and flipped through a few pages. Elsa placed a hand over his to stop him.

"Didn't you say this book was inappropriate reading material for a young woman such as myself?" she asked drolly.

"It's not all murder, sin and other dark desires," he said innocently. "This isn't _A Ramble in St. James' Park_."

"What's that about?"

"Your sweet little head would explode."

Elsa rolled her eyes. Hans started to read:

_As soon as I had set eyes on this girl, it seemed as if a gleam of light from heaven flashed around me, and penetrated to my very heart, kindling up mysterious and long-lost emotions – the most ardent longings – the raptures of the most fervent love. All indeed that I had formerly felt seemed only like obscure and shadowy indications of that which now stepped forth at once into my reality and life. Nay, life itself dawned for the first time, glittering, variegated, and splendid before me, and all that I had known before lay cold and dead, as if under the desolate shadows of night._

"There's nothing sordid about that," Elsa whispered.

"No," Hans agreed softly, gently kissing the top of her head. "There's nothing sordid about that, is there?"

Silence stretched comfortably between them, but it was touched by sadness. He set the book aside and she sank deeper into his arms as he tightened them around her.

"I'll turn myself in," he said, the sound of his voice startling her a little, deep and rumbling in his chest against her ear.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll turn myself in. If I turn myself in, you'll have good reason in the eyes of your people to show me mercy and withdraw the death sentence."

Elsa placed her hand over his heart. "You'd still end up in prison for the rest of your life."

"You'd pay me the occasional visit, wouldn't you?" he asked.

"Please, Hans. Please consider leaving. The idea of you locked up –"

"We're at an impasse, Your Grace. You told me you can't live with me dead or locked up, and I'm telling you I can't live a life away from you, free or otherwise. We have to make a compromise, and I dare say I think this is the best we'll be able to do."

"Hans, no…"

"Tell me you'll come see me," he whispered. "You can say whatever mean thing you'd like. That'll be fun, won't it? I do love when we argue," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Elsa felt the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. "That's not funny."

"It's not meant to be funny. I really do love when we argue. Your right eyebrow arches and your eyes light up like two blue flames. Your cheeks get red, and then, if I'm lucky, you sink your teeth into that perfect bottom lip of yours to keep yourself from prematurely interrupting whatever arrogant, asinine thing I'm saying at the time. Your breathing quickens, your breasts rise and fall, and you clench your fists like you're about to clock me across the mouth."

"And you find all that attractive, do you?" Elsa chuckled, tracing the line of his jaw with one long finger.

"If you could freeze time the way you could freeze everything else, then that would be the time to do it. I couldn't possibly love you more than I do when you're putting me in my place."

Elsa turned in his lap, straddling his legs so she could look him in the eye. "What ever will I do without you?"

"You'll be one hell of a queen," he said. "That's what."

She kissed him fervidly and he kissed her back with equal enthusiasm, his hands immediately going to her hips and her arms around his neck. In almost no time at all, they were back to where they were before – trying to get as close to each other as they could, to touch as much of the other's body as they were able to without growing claws and shredding their clothes to ribbons. She felt him growing harder between her legs, but instead of panicking this time, she rocked against his erection slowly and deliberately.

"Tell me you want me inside you," he begged.

"We can't, Hans. We already deci—"

"We won't," he said raggedly. "We're just talking, okay?"

Elsa gasped as he moved one hand from her hip to her breast. He very quickly found her nipple and pinched it through the heavy cotton fabric.

"Just talking?" she sighed, her head falling back, her eyes falling closed.

"Just talking. Tell me you want me inside you."

"I want you inside me," she breathed. He raised his hips and started to move between her thighs more forcefully, his fingers continuing to knead her breast. He moaned for her to say it again. She traced the helix of his ear with her tongue, and he shivered. "You're trying to trick me," she said. "You think if I say it enough times I'll change my mind."

A coarse chuckle escaped his lips. "No. We're just talking, remember? I haven't even tried to take off your dress…"

Elsa kissed him. "No," she murmured against his lips. "You haven't."

"I haven't tried to lift up your skirts, have I?"

His fingers ghosted along the sweetheart neckline of her dress. "Or pull this down so I can lift your breasts to my mouth and use my tongue to –"

"Hans," she half-sighed, half-groaned. "Stop it. Please."

"I'm just talking," Hans said. "It's your turn."

Elsa arched her eyebrow. "How about something like 'you're a sneaky bastard and you should be ashamed of yourself'?"

"You did that on purpose," he growled, bucking against her. Elsa cried out, but the freeze's cry was louder. She enveloped his face with her hands, seizing his lips and bearing down on him with great urgency. It seemed that the freeze had decided to side with her body against her mind.

Thankfully, Hans seemed to be siding with Elsa. He stuck to "just talking".

The jerk.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you," he murmured between kisses.

Elsa blinked and pulled back a little bit. "I don't know what that means."

Hans smiled, laying his forehead against hers. His breathing was ragged, and every time he opened his mouth to speak or to breathe, Elsa's tongue dipped into his mouth for another taste of it.

"That's because 'fuck' is a very, very…" he kissed the underside of her jaw, nuzzled her earlobe, "…very, very…" Elsa sighed and ran her hand up the rigid plane of his stomach, feeling the freeze pooling in so many new and interesting places. "…very bad word," he finished.

"Really? How do you know that word?"

"I'm the bad guy," he said, a sultry little smile on his handsome face. They continued to roll their hips against one another, and eventually all the movement caused the fabric of Elsa's drawers to shift so that he was rubbing against her bare skin. This new friction was both painful and pleasing, and so mentally distracting that she almost forgot to breathe.

"Tell me what it means," she whispered. "And maybe I'll say it."

Hans exhaled slowly and leaned back in the chair to give Elsa better access to the stomach muscles she seemed so fascinated with.

"Well," he began, lightly slapping Elsa's hands away when she started to pull at his shirt to get her hands under it - they were just supposed to be talking, after all. "Do you remember when we were on that bed, locked up in that room?"

"Vaguely," she said.

"Remember how we tore your dress trying to get it off of you? I wanted to unlace your corset, but you climbed into my lap and…"

"Because you were teasing my breasts," she whispered.

"I remember," Hans said throatily, untying the ribbon that was keeping her French braid together. He drew it from her hair and tucked it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

"I think you've forgotten what we're talking about. You're supposed to tell me what that word means."

"Fuck?" he asked. Elsa wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but the way his eyes darkened when he said the word was starting to give her an inkling. Not knowing its exact meaning certainly wasn't hindering her enjoyment of hearing it on Hans' lips. He leaned into the shell of her ear. "When I pushed into you with my cock…" he whispered. He pulled rhythmically at the nipple of her other breast, and she felt the freeze pulsating at the apex of her thighs, could taste it on her tongue. She was so close to begging him to take the damn dress off already.

"When I pushed into you with my cock…then pulled out…then pushed inside you again…" Elsa closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. She unconsciously started to ride him a little harder. "…over and over…and over again" Hans whispered, hips rising to meet hers while he simultaneously brought her down hard against his erection again and again. "That's what fucking is," he rasped. Elsa's breathing hitched. "Now, Your Grace…is there anything you'd like to say to me?"

"I want you to fuck me," Elsa gasped, arching her back.

"Oh, God…" Hans groaned. "Say it again…"

She did. She said it over and over again until the words were no longer words – just a series of murmurs and moans between the frequent meeting of his lips and hers. They writhed mindlessly against one another, devouring one another. She felt her entire body begin to tense just as it had the last time they were together, just before -

She wondered what made it different this time, what made it better. Was it because she knew he loved her, or because he knew she loved him? Was it because she felt like he'd finally let her in – that his ugly past was out in the open now? Or was it because it would be their last time together?

They were just talking. Well…not _just_ talking, but…

Elsa had never been one to underestimate the power of words, but – wow. _Wow. _She wasn't at all prepared for that. Hans slumped back in the chair and Elsa flopped down on top of him. She rested her head against his heaving chest and drew her arms around his waist.

"Was that…I mean are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered. "Just tired from talking."

"Ah, I see." Hans kissed the top of her head. "I talk too much, then?"

"You talked my head off," she said cheekily. "I could barely get a word in edgewise."

"Oh, I don't know about that," he said. "I seem to remember you managing to get one or two choice words for me in there."

Elsa waved her hand limply, aiming the freeze at the large rose window to dim the moonlight by frosting the glass. She knocked her foot against one of the legs of the armchair, kicking up a wind that snuffed out whatever candles in the room were still lit.

"Elsa?"

"Hm?"

"All that stuff about my family…I don't think I kept it from you to protect you from my parents. I think I may have kept it from you because I was protecting myself," he said. "I was protecting myself from you."

Elsa cocked her head to one side and arched an eyebrow at him. "You were afraid I'd freeze you and churn you into ice cream?" she suggested wryly.

Hans shook his head, tracing her lips with his fingertips. "No," he said. "I was trying to keep you out…but you got into my head. Once you were in there…I thought it would only be a matter of time before you wanted out. It's such a mess in there."

Elsa smiled warmly at him. He was exhausted and fast falling asleep before her very eyes.

"I'm not making any sense," he murmured. He closed his eyes, opened them again slowly. "I let my guard down for only a second here, a heartbeat there, and you managed to get in…into my heart," he slurred.

In short time, he was snoring lightly and Elsa found herself glancing down at his long eyelashes, the freckles across his nose and cheeks, and his kiss-swollen lips, pocketing every detail and hoping beyond hope that they would stay with her once they went their separate ways.

Turning on her side, she curled up in his lap and closed her eyes. She would let him sleep for a while, and then she'd have to call the guards. She'd left Anna and Kai worrying long enough.

She remembered how there was a time when talking with Hans always made her a little anxious. She was never sure where their conversations would take them. But the anxiousness eventually gave way to anticipation, and it was like a drug. She loved their banter, the unpredictability of it, and the full spectrum of emotions it always had the potential to bring out of her.

Pandora's Box had been opened. How could she ever be expected to close it again?


	24. Then Falls Thy Shadow

So.

The long-awaited chapter! Finally!

Sometimes real life gets in the way - in my case it was work, mental illness, a sick pet, and a death in the family. While I appreciate your readership and adore you for being you, please understand that sometimes life is hard and time gets away from me. During those times, your understanding and kindness really makes a difference. A happy writer is a better writer. :)

ETA: In an effort to avoid confusing too many people, I thought I should probably mention that this chapter takes place immediately following the events of Chapter 18.

I certainly hope this chapter was worth the wait and that you still like me enough to fill me in on what you think of it. I hope that in my rush to get the chapter posted I didn't miss too many typos.

As always, warmest regards,

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 24**  
THEN FALLS THY SHADOW

It looked almost exactly like his grandfather's old naval cutlass. Hans remembered sitting at his grandfather's feet while he regaled him with tales of his adventures at sea. As he told his stories, he would let Hans hold the cutlass in its scabbard across his lap. Hans would run his fingers along the cold brass, letting his fingertips linger on every scratch and scar. Almost every mark had a story behind it, and Hans would sometimes listen to the same one a dozen times over.

Hans glanced at his hands. They looked no different than usual, though the painful tension he'd felt in them before the cutlass appeared was gone. As a matter of fact, he felt good - stronger than he'd felt in days. But how did…?

He remembered a conversation he'd had with Elsa about the clothes she'd made herself to wear in place of her torn dress.

"_You made all that? Like, out of ice? How?"_

"_The same way I make anything. I think it, and it just…I don't know. It just happens."_

Is that what had just happened? Did he just will that cutlass into existence simply by thinking about it? He already knew the answer to that question, of course, but he could hardly believe it.

"Jack Snipe," he whispered, cupping his hands together in front of him and closing his eyes. He pressed his lips together, really focusing on the image in his head, but nothing happened. He opened his eyes and sighed unhappily.

Maybe it was just a one-time thing. He glanced down at his chest. The snowflake's light became dimmer and dimmer, and he wondered if it was because Elsa no longer cared for him. Maybe he'd just used up any residual magic she'd imbued him with on that cutlass. With nothing left of her inside of him, he felt emotionally adrift. He started to lose his nerve.

_Maybe I should let her go._

Really, who was he kidding? There was no way he'd be able to get anywhere near Elsa, not close enough to tell her all the things he needed to tell her, or say all the things he wanted to say.

_Elsa…_

Alma was right – whether it be three months, three years, or three hundred years – Elsa would never speak to him again. He'd bargained for her freedom and his, but he hadn't read the fine print.

He knew Elsa well enough then to know that she would lock herself up in her room the first second she could. She would no longer be afraid of hurting others. Instead she would be afraid of others hurting her. What kind of freedom was that?

And what kind of freedom would he have without her?

_Elsa…_

The frost on the windowpane grew thicker, effectively smothering what little light remained in the room. At even the softest utterance of her name, Elsa's snowflake blazed and the heart behind it thundered back to life and pulsed along every bone in his body.

_Elsa…_

He shuddered, fighting a suddenly adversarial gravity to stay on his feet.

"Elsa…" he whispered. "I don't know how to fix this. I don't think I can."

_Elsa…_

All at once his body relaxed, his shoulders slumped and his arms fell limp at his sides. He exhaled, long and slow, and gave his mind up to his body. He managed to empty his head of all but one thought. Pinpoints of light behind his eyelids like stars in a black sky spelled out her name. A biting wind wound its way around the room, howling like an untethered beast. Startled, Hans' eyes flew open. He turned away from the darkened window and gasped, taking several footfalls back.

Elsa stood not ten feet away from him, tall and elegant in her coronation gown and cape. In her hands she held up the orb and sceptre, both adorned with Arendelle's ubiquitous crocus. Her eyes were large and empty, there was no rise or fall in her breast, and no movement in the long cape that pooled around her ankles. No living, breathing thing could remain that still. But in every other way she was perfect.

Or it, rather. It was perfect.

And it wasn't the only one.

The room had become a shrine to all things Elsa. Icicles hung low from the ceiling like lanterns and rime coated the walls. The floor was overlaid in ice but he found that the soles of his boots held as fast to the frozen floorboards as they would have had he been standing on dry earth. Other ice sculptures, each one in her image, each one as impressive a work of art as the next, were scattered throughout the room.

"_I think it and it just…I don't know. It just happens."_

One held her arms out before her, no doubt in mid-attack. Her head was turned to the side as though she were acknowledging another presence in the room. Her eyes were wide as though she'd been caught by surprise. It was the Elsa he'd confronted in the ice palace, the one who was seconds away from killing Weselton's men.

"_Don't be the monster they fear you are…"_

He slowly circled the two sculptures, marveling at their incredible detail before stopping in front of the third. She reached out to him, beseeching him to remove the shackles forged from iron just for her. To protect the guards from her. To protect himself from her.

_How laughable_, he thought dryly.

A fourth sculpture depicted Elsa moments before he first kissed her, standing confidently with her shoulders pulled back, a gentle smile on her face. It was the first time he'd seen her really smile. And when she said those words – _just me_ – he knew he'd lose himself to her, and why prolong the inevitable? So he kissed her, again and again until –

The mark on his chest burned bright at the memory of its conception. When he'd written that letter and instructed Hadewych to take it to Elsa, he had no idea he'd be setting off a chain of events that would bring her into his life in such an inconceivable way. He'd only meant to get his cherished old friend and long-time personal attendant out of harm's way.

And out of harm's way was Arendelle.

**oooOOOOooo**

Hadewych was the only other person who knew what had really happened to Cilia, and only because he had a knack for sniffing out any truths that might be hiding out in a palace full of gossip and lies. He'd been in the employ of the Westergård family since he was fifteen. As a favour to Hadewych's father, Grandpa Nikolaj chose him to be his personal attendant once he retired. Hans never found out how Hadewych ended up eventually becoming his own personal attendant. As one of the members of staff with the most seniority, Hadewych should have ended up tending to one of the oldest brothers. For years Hans thought that the attendant had been demoted, that he'd been stuck with Hans as punishment for making some sort of mistake. Maybe he handed his father the wrong pair of cufflinks on a bad day or something. It was the only thing that made sense to Hans.

For the first two years they were together, Hans barely spoke to Hadewych. Sometimes, when he would dress the young Westergård, their eyes would meet in the full-length mirror for just a second before Hans would look away, feeling awkward and embarrassed. Hans wasn't comfortable with eye contact. Cicero said that the countenance is the portrait of the soul, and the eyes mark its intentions. When Hans' brothers weren't pretending he was invisible, they were staring at him with cool, condemnatory eyes, and it left Hans with little doubt as to what their intentions for him would be once he was no longer under the protective wing of their grandfather. Hans got in the habit of keeping his eyes cast downwards when he walked through the halls. He didn't want to know what anyone thought of him, and he certainly didn't want anyone to know what he thought of them.

One evening while Hadewych was helping Hans into his tailcoat, their eyes met in the mirror as they usually did, but this time he didn't look away quick enough. He was surprised to see the older gentleman smile at him. It was a kind, guileless smile, and Hans couldn't help but be suspicious of it. So the next time Hadewych helped him dress, he watched and waited to see if the smile that baffled him so would make a second appearance. It did. Then a third appearance, a fourth, and a fifth…

Before long, Hans felt like he had a friend – a real friend. His first one. Someone he could talk to, not as often as he'd like, or in as personal a way as he desired, but it was certainly far better than nothing. A silent ally was still an ally, and that's exactly what Hadewych was - always somewhere in the background reminding Hans to stand up straight, maintain eye contact, and move with grace. He told Hans that his mother was a dancer, and that she had carried herself like one both on and off a ballroom floor.

"You are a prince," he told Hans while fastening his epaulets on the eve of his first ball. "Not just out there, but in here as well," he explained, gesturing to Hans' heart. "You may have your father's looks, but you also have your mother's poise. You have his pride and her benevolence."

Hans laughed before he could help it. "I'm sorry, Hadewych, but I don't have a kind bone in my body. Unfortunately I'm more my father's son than either of us would care to admit."

Hadewych chuckled. "Maybe I could have phrased that better. You have a big heart, but the misfortune of being surrounded by people who probably don't deserve to benefit from your kindness. Earn the respect of your people, Your Highness. They're the only ones who matter."

"Not the only ones," Hans said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness?"

"They're not the only ones who matter," Hans said again tentatively. The adolescent prince glanced shyly at Hadewych. The older gentleman smiled and stepped back to admire his work.

"You look very handsome, Your Highness. Just be sure to keep your chin up and to look people in the eye when they speak to you."

Hans tugged nervously at the hem of his tailcoat while doing the exact opposite of what Hadewych instructed even before leaving the room. "Yes. I will," he said half-heartedly.

Hadewych was insistent. "Your Highness?"

Hans looked up. "Yes, Hadewych. I will. Thank you."

"Your mother met her husband at a ball, you know."

As a safety precaution, Hadewych was always careful never to refer to Hans' mother by name, and only ever gave him the occasional, very brief glimpse into who she was. He seemed to know that Hans liked learning whatever he could about Cilia, even if his outward appearance never hinted at his interest in the topic.

As usual, Hans said nothing – only clasped his gloved hands in front of him.

"Maybe you'll meet someone this evening," Hadewych said pleasantly.

"I hardly think so," Hans snorted dismissively, trying to hide the blush that quickly rose to his cheeks by pretending to check his boots for scuffs.

"Alright, alright," Hadewych laughed gently. "Just remember what I said. You keep your chin up, otherwise you'll miss it."

Hadewych tapped Hans' chin. He obediently tilted his head up so that Hadewych could straighten his cravat, finally looking his old friend in the eye.

"Miss what?" he asked.

"The moment she falls in love with you."

**oooOOOOooo**

Hans stared thoughtfully at Elsa dressed in the boots, trousers, shirt and jacket she'd woven for herself. Around her neck was the tie he had given her, neatly tied in a bow, the ends tucked into the waistcoat just the way he'd always worn it. He wondered what would happen to the real one. It was still around her neck when he'd last seen her, sitting up in bed with that bandage wrapped around her injured head. He had tried his damndest not to look at her while he broke her heart, even though he knew that his plan would only work if Alma and his father not only believed his only interest in Elsa was the child he suspected she might be carrying, but that he also wanted to revel in the pain he was causing her like the smug, narcissistic young man that he was.

The smug, narcissistic young man he still was.

Hans couldn't imagine Elsa falling in love with him and not hating herself for it. He was sure he didn't recognize "the moment" for what it was because it probably more closely resembled the look of someone about to be trampled by a horse than the look of someone falling in love. He had hoped that a day would come when Elsa would love that not-so-nice side of him as much as he was sure she loved whatever was left when one took the not-so-nice side of him out of the equation.

He wasn't stupid. He knew she was in love with him.

She had been able to hurt him immeasurably - her tongue flung words in his direction that easily cut through the muscled wall of his heart, the piercing gaze of her blue eyes like swords thrust into his flesh with all her might guiding them. She couldn't have destroyed him so completely if he didn't love her. She wouldn't have had such a desire to destroy him so completely if she didn't love him in return. He was sure of it.

She could have frozen everyone and everything in the palace. She could have created a giant snow monster to crush the three of them underfoot, or pummeled the entire kingdom with a powerful snowstorm, the likes of which no one had ever seen. She didn't because she wasn't a Westergård. She derived no pleasure from ill-conceived acts of vengeance. Alternately, Elsa could have fallen to pieces the way she did that day on the fjord when he told her Anna had died, and that it was by her own hand. Just like that day, he'd told her that her life as she knew it was over, and that it was because she had trusted her instincts, and her instincts had once again betrayed her.

But she looked into his eyes and she fought back - not with a landslide of ice and snow, nor a landslide of words. Three were all she needed: _I hate you. _

The chill she'd placed in his heart did the rest.

He knelt down beside the last ice sculpture. Elsa folding in on herself, all the fight gone from her as though the only thing holding her up all this time had been Anna's determination to be a part of her life. Anna was her champion, and without her…

Hans reached out a hand and lightly touched her shoulder. He stroked her hair, which, of course, was solid ice like the rest of her. The train of her dress pooled around her and his knees sank into it as he drew closer to her. Unlike the rest of her, the train was soft and gauzy like fabric. How was it that he was able to remember it so vividly from that day, right down to the last detail? How it draped over one wilting shoulder, the way it lay across the frozen plane of the fjord, and the pattern that adorned it – snowflakes and stars. He remembered all of it.

He inched carefully around the figure, finally coming to rest in front of the sculpture. Her hand was curled into a fist that she pressed to her forehead, and her exquisite face was disfigured by grief, a kind of grief he'd never been privy to before. His heart beat maliciously in his chest as though it were a conscious being with a will of its own that had suddenly turned against him.

Suddenly aware of another presence in the room, Hans scrambled to his feet and came face to face with, to his abject horror, himself. He stood looming over an emotionally crushed and physically defeated Elsa, shoulders squared in his greatcoat, the sword in his hand an extension of the powerful and confident arm that held it. He wore a twisted smile of premature elation on his face as, unbeknownst to him, he stood mere seconds away from slaughtering the only woman who would ever love him.

Hans barely recognized the look on his face.

He looked like a monster.

He'd shrugged off that word – _monster_ – when Elsa had pinned him with it. His father was a monster. That thing Elsa had created, the giant snowman that had almost killed him, _that_ was a monster. He wasn't a monster. But there it was, made from fire and ice and the stuff of nightmares. Tears stung his eyes and he clutched his chest, drilling his fingers into the flesh and bone of it, hurting himself but not enough to distract from the overwhelming feelings of shame and self-loathing.

He retrieved the naval cutlass born from his hatred for his father and stepped up to the statue. He raised his arm and, in a smooth and perfect arc, brought the blade down hard against the side of the monster's head. The blow reverberated back through his entire body and for just a moment it felt as though every bone in his body had shattered at once. In a surge of light and sound the sculpture came apart, flecks of it dissipating into harmless mist that felt like cool, blissful heaven on Hans' burning skin. The other statues followed suit, evaporating into the air one after the other, and Hans soon found himself alone again. He dropped the cutlass and it too evaporated before it could even hit the ground. The room was dark except for the light from his heart. Its pounding tempered into a mild discomfort that was much easier to ignore.

Hans held out his hand. His fingers unfurled like flower petals to reveal a perfect Jack Snipe nestled in his palm. He tossed it up into the air and it vanished into the darkness as if it were a living bird that had taken its leave of him on flawless, frosty, gossamer wings.

"_Won't you save us both?"_

It was time to go see Elsa. He was finally ready to prove to her that her instincts hadn't let her down this time.

He was finally ready to become the man Hadewych always knew he could be.


	25. Within It That Surrender

So.

I hope 2015 has been treating you well so far. Thanks so much for all the kind reviews and well-wishes. This is a tough time of year for me, so your messages mean even more to me than they usually do (if that's even possible). This chapter is a little short. It's actually the first half of what was supposed to be one rather long chapter, but I decided to post it as is while working on the second half (which will be along very, very soon - please bear with me). I thought the story was due for an update, so I wanted to put something out now. I hope you're alright with that, and I hope you enjoy the chapter despite everything. :)

Take good care of yourselves.

Lots of love,  
ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 25**  
WITHIN IT THAT SURRENDER

Neither Elsa nor Hans had ever been in the position they were in just then, seconds away from a goodbye kiss. For that matter, neither of them had ever before been faced with having to stand toe-to-toe to say goodbye to someone they loved. Hans' grandfather had died in his sleep and Elsa's parents had been swallowed up by the sea. There was mourning and acceptance, but no real goodbye.

They had silently returned all the books that had tumbled from their shelves to their places and set all the standing candelabras upright again. Neither of them wanted to speak the obvious aloud – that once everything was back where it was supposed to be, they themselves would need to do the same. Elsa would go back to being the ruler of Arendelle and Hans would go back to being a despised enemy of it.

Hans rested his forehead against Elsa's and closed his eyes. He listened to her breathing, listened to the sound of it mingling with his own, and even though he promised Elsa he wouldn't make their goodbye any harder by touching her with anything but his lips, the fingers of one hand skated down her back and rested at the base of her spine. Breaking her own rule, she lightly traced the shape of his ear and the contour of his jaw.

He tilted his head ever so slightly to one side and drew closer. His lips carefully sought hers.

Beneath his touch, the lines of Elsa's body would become fluid like water, skin would become silk. Against his mouth, her lips were soft like the velvety spathe of a lily, her tongue its spadix. When he looked at her, reached for her, she became all things divine, a feast for the senses. She wondered if anyone would ever make her feel that way again.

Would the kingdom expect her to marry one day? An unmarried queen wasn't unheard of, but…

Anna's world had grown exponentially since Elsa's coronation gone awry. Soon she would be making unaccompanied visits to neighbouring countries as a representative of Arendelle. Between travelling, Anna's studies, their regular duties here at home, and the time she spent with Kristoff, Elsa knew she wouldn't be able to spend nearly as much time with her sister as she would like. Of course Elsa would be busy with her own duties, but even in a room buzzing with activity, even buried beneath a pile of paperwork, even with the distraction of being the ruler of an entire kingdom, it had been her experience that she could get lonely. Very lonely. She couldn't see herself marrying just for the sake of having someone to keep her company when Anna couldn't _now_, but…

As if Hans was inside Elsa's head, eavesdropping on her thoughts, his other hand joined the one already pressed against the small of her back, and traveled upwards covetously between her shoulders, her neck, then delved into her platinum hair. She should have pulled away, but she found herself arching into him instead.

His lips barely touched hers. She didn't know whether it was because he was trying to delay the inevitable, or because he was afraid that if he put too much pressure on her lips, he'd never be able to pull back. She rolled her body forward and rose onto the balls of her feet so she could close the distance between her lips and his. He moaned softly, sadly.

He remembered the ice sculpture of Elsa curling in on itself on the icy floor, his own likeness looming over her, the arm wielding his sword held high in the air. He remembered the sickening smile on his face, the face he'd barely recognized as his own

"I've made such a mess of things," he said. "Things could have been so different. It isn't fair that my mistakes have convicted and sentenced us both."

Elsa gently shushed him. "I don't care how or why it happened, but you're here now, and soon you won't be. At the moment, my mind's eye is blind to anything else."

"Elsa…I wanted to kill you once. I almost did," he said hoarsely.

"Yes, I know. I was there, remember?"

"You know that I've changed, don't you? I swear that I have, it was just too late."

"You haven't changed, Hans, and you must promise me you never will. Not for me. Not for anyone. You don't need to change, you only need to grow, just like I need to grow. I'm as much at fault for what happened on that fjord…for what almost happened…as you are," Elsa said, finally admitting it out loud.

Hans snorted and shook his head. "I'm the one who told you that, and I only said it to get under your skin."

"Yes, but you were right, weren't you? I've learned from my mistakes, and I've grown. You've grown." Elsa said emphatically, touching his arm lightly.

Hans let out a long, tremulous sigh. He crossed his arms, not knowing what else to do with them. Elsa kept talking, working hard to keep her voice steady.

"You're able to be brave and kind, and ruthless and cruel from one heartbeat to the next. You have a strong heart and a strong will, and an indomitable push to get what you want. You're not the kind of person I ever thought I would fall in love with. I fought tooth and nail not to, but you…" she touched his chin and he glanced across at her. She began to feel a tightness in her throat, and tears beading her eyelashes. "You bring out the fighting spirit in me. I've been fighting against you, against my feelings for you, but it's time I start fighting for you, for my feelings for you. For myself. Promise me, Hans. Promise me that you'll never change."

"That cruelty and ruthlessness you claim to love in me is dangerous," Hans insisted hoarsely. "It could kill you. _ I_ could kill you. It's reckless of you to turn a blind eye to that part of me."

"Do you really believe that you're still capable of hurting me?" Elsa asked carefully. "Even after everything that's happened?"

"What if I hurt you without meaning to?"

"Hans, I was afraid of the exact same thing. I was so scared of hurting Anna that it literally sent me running for the hills, but I learned how to control my powers and now –"

"God, don't you understand what I'm trying to say, Elsa?" he cried, his frustration finally getting the better of him. "I'm not the same as you! There's an ugliness in me that could never survive in you. But in me…it thrives in me," he rasped. He tapped the side of his head with his index finger. "There's so much hate in here. I hate my family so much, Elsa. If you somehow got caught in the middle of that war, if you somehow ended up being a casualty of it, I would die."

Elsa arched an eyebrow at him and chuckled in a lame attempt to lighten the mood. "_Now_ who's being dramat—"

The sudden intensity in his eyes made her shiver. "I'm not being dramatic, Elsa. I would die. If something happened to you - if anything _happens_ to you, I'll die. And I'm so afraid I'll want to take the rest of the world with me."

"Hans…" she whispered, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping the tiniest bit. She didn't know whether to be touched or horrified just then. She stood up on the tips of her toes and kissed him. He kissed her back, this time with a measure of flimsy resistance that amounted to nothing when, with a seriousness that made his heart slow to a near-stop, she said, "I won't let your fear of hurting me make all our decisions for us. You don't have to be afraid. I'm strong. Stronger than your parents, stronger than all of your brothers combined. I'm stronger than your resentment, stronger than your regrets, stronger than your blood thirst, and stronger than your desire to become king ever was. And I truly believe you are, too."

She took his hand and, before he realized what she was doing, tugged down the neckline of her dress and chemise, exposing her left breast to him. He didn't have time to react beyond a sharp intake of breath when she pressed his hand to it. Wide-eyed and tongue-tied, he looked into Elsa's very determined face.

"Elsa, please…" he breathed. "I know what you want me to do, but…it was very painful the first time. And what if I do it wrong?"

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she wrapped both her hands around his wrist, her eyes locking with his.

"I know all about first times being painful," she said pointedly. "And worrying about 'doing it wrong'."

Hans smirked, a blush rising to his cheeks. "Touché," he chuckled sheepishly.

"Hans, the mark on your chest…" she began shyly, "do you regret –"

"No," he interrupted her firmly. "Never. It makes me yours."

Elsa nodded. "So make me yours," she said, stroking the hand still cupping her breast. She smiled when she saw his eyes widen with surprise as though he'd only just realized where his hand was.

"I-I can't," he finally said. "I just don't want to take any chances. I'm sorry," he sighed. "I'm so sorry."

Elsa let out a long, shaky breath as he withdrew his hand and she covered herself. Neither of them could look at each other.

"Hans…" she began slowly, casting her eyes to the floor. "One day I might end up doing something stupid. Something…selfish."

"You couldn't possibly," he replied.

"Oh, I don't know about that," she said hesitantly. "I mean it's only a matter of time before Anna and Kristoff marry. They'll have their own royal duties to attend to as a married couple. One day I may get tired of traveling abroad alone, of hosting balls and dinners alone," Elsa explained with an air of nonchalance that successfully distracted from the mischievous gleam in her eye. "I might get tired of sitting alone in my room reading books before bed. I've slept beside you now. I've slept in your arms. I'll miss it too much one day, and…"

Hans' brow knitted together, a mixture shock and hurt blanching his face. It hadn't even occurred to Hans that Elsa might want to marry someday. He suddenly felt sick. Not just sick. Sick and…

"…one day I may want to share my bed with someone..."

Hans gnawed on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood from it. He felt a tingling in his fingers that had become familiar to him now. He clenched his fists and tried to will the freeze away.

"I suppose once I made my intention to marry public," Elsa continued, "I'd have to play hostess to a number of eligible suitors, and then…"

Hans could barely hear Elsa for the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He watched her lips moving, his fingers flexing, his knuckles turning white as she prattled on about entertaining suitors as though she were having a casual conversation with a friend over tea instead of crushing his soul underfoot.

Elsa suddenly laughed. "God, you don't think your parents would dare try to send one of your brothers over here to try to court me, do you? I suppose just to save face and keep people from suspecting anything, I'd have to be polite. Maybe even dance with them, or –"

Hans' eyes narrowed at the mention of his family. He knew what Elsa was angling for. He was a fool for thinking she'd given up so easily.

_Give her what she wants. What you both want._

Bending Elsa back over the arm he wrapped around her waist, he launched a powerful, icy surge through the hand that held her breast, aiming for her heart and illuminating her skin. She gasped, dropping her head back as she rode out the shudder that moved through her with all the gentleness of rolling thunder, steadied by Hans' strong arm around her. He pulled her tightly to his chest and nuzzled her long, white throat. He wanted her so much just then that it took everything he had in him not to tear into her cool, porcelain-like perfection.

"Is that what you wanted?" he growled softly in her ear. She moaned helplessly, and a rapturous smile broke across her face. He was relieved to see it. "You can really be a manipulative little she-devil when you want to be, hm?"

"I had a very good he-devil as a teacher," Elsa whispered, enjoying the pleasant, sustained hum of the freeze in her veins. She was acutely aware of its foreign elements, of Hans, which was her most precious wish granted – that long after they said their last goodbyes, she would still be able to feel Hans inside of her, enhancing her already eternally vivid memories of their time together.

He kissed her, and as though the unique marriage of their bodies connected them in such a way that they were able to read the other's mind, he carefully lifted Elsa and gently placed her back on the floor on her own two feet. She brought one hand through his red hair, lovingly touched the white streak amidst it. She kissed the soft, sensitive spot beneath his ear.

It was time.

They walked to the doors together, at first arm in arm, then holding hands, then with laced fingers. When they drew the very tips of those fingers from one another for the last time, Hans looked across at Elsa.

"I love you. In all my life, I've never…"

He couldn't finish. He took a deep, ragged breath then pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.

"I love you, too," Elsa breathed.

"Don't forget me," he said, putting his hand on the doorknob in front of him. Elsa followed suit with the other.

"I couldn't," she answered achingly. "I couldn't."

Then, on a silent count of three, Queen Elsa Riborg Voigt, ruler of Arendelle, and Prince Hans Lind Westergård, thirteenth son of the Southern Isles, opened the doors and crossed the threshold as strangers to each other's hearts, and enemies once more.


	26. All Mortals In Beauty

So.

How are you? :)

I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I might be a little rusty when it comes to writing for Elsa and Anna. It's the first time in a while that they've actually been in the same room together. I always imagined Anna being the social butterfly with people smarts, and Elsa being the introvert with book smarts. What do you think? I'm sure you'll let me know. Or at least I'm hoping you'll let me know. I do value your opinion.

Take good care, my friend.

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 26**  
ALL MORTALS IN BEAUTY

Anna lay on her back across Elsa's bed and stared absently at the ring on her finger, glancing occasionally at Elsa sitting quietly at her vanity reading a book. Actually, Anna wasn't so sure that Elsa was actually doing any reading. She hadn't turned a page for at least ten minutes and Anna was starting to get the impression that Elsa was using the book as an excuse not to talk.

If that was the case, Anna was onto her. She'd waited years for Elsa to come out of her cocoon. She could wait a few more hours if Elsa still insisted on vacationing there occasionally.

It had been almost two months since Hans had blown into town demanding to speak to Elsa and she still hadn't told anyone why he'd wanted to see her. Well, not the real reason, anyway. The official reason was that Elsa and the Westergård family had decided during her visit that he should serve out the rest of his sentence here in Arendelle where the military had experience dealing with Hans' powers.

When asked how he'd acquired his powers, all Elsa said was that she had managed to keep hers a secret for years.

"For all we know, he's had these abilities all along."

She was uncharacteristically dismissive. Gerda and Kristoff had both tried to tell Anna on separate occasions that Elsa was just maturing as a queen and keeping her people from worrying needlessly, but Anna wasn't buying it. Elsa was hiding something. She had an answer for everything, and the tone of voice she delivered those answers with was clipped and cool, her unusually tenebrous eyes revealing nothing. Anna found it wholly unsettling. It reminded her of Hans, which only made her all the more suspicious.

"It's like she's been hypnotized," Anna told Kristoff. "Are there trolls out there who can be persuaded to cast evil spells on people for money?"

That last comment earned Anna two days' worth of the silent treatment from Kristoff, which she thought was absurdly unfair. She'd learned over the past year that there was real evil in the world hiding behind even the most innocuous of faces. If humanity consisted of good people, bad people, and just…people, then was it so far-fetched to believe that there could be good trolls and bad trolls? The only magic Anna was familiar with was that of Elsa's powers, and the only ones who ever seemed to understand those were the trolls. More specifically, Grand Pabbie.

_If only Kristoff would let me speak to Grand Pabbie about Hans, _she thought, looking across the room at Elsa.

"So…what are you reading?" she asked.

Elsa looked up, her eyes taking a moment to focus on Anna as though she'd had no idea anyone was in the room with her until she spoke.

"It's called _The Sandman_," she finally answered. Anna rolled over onto her stomach, resting her chin in her hands.

"Is it a fairytale?"

"Um…not exactly."

Anna and Elsa chatted about the book for a little while. Elsa was rather evasive about the book's subject matter, which only served to pique Anna's interest in it even more. She made a mental note to grab the book the second Elsa was done reading it herself. Elsa and Anna talked a little about what she and Kristoff had been up to the past little while.

"My whittling has gotten much better. I'm making a bowl right now. I'm going to try to carve some tulips around the outside of it. I'm not nicking my fingers nearly as often now."

Elsa smiled. "I'm just relieved you've managed to keep all your fingers attached to the rest of you."

"It's easy enough if you have the right materials and tools, and –"

"Teacher?"

Anna blushed. "Yes. A very good teacher."

Elsa crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed. She took Anna's hand and looked at the ring on her finger.

"It's really beautiful. He's very talented, isn't he?" Elsa said.

"Yes, he is. I'm starting to think I might be the only person in the family with no artistic talent to speak of," Anna chuckled. Elsa arched an eyebrow at her and smirked.

"Family, huh?"

Anna's eyes widened. "Oh…well…um…"

"So maybe this _is_ an engagement ring after all," Elsa said. Anna shook her head rather vigorously.

"No, no, no. It's just a friendship ring."

"A friendship ring?" Elsa asked skeptically.

"Okay, maybe a promise ring."

"Promising what?"

"Oh, come on," Anna groaned, reaching for one of Elsa's pillows to bury her face in. "Anyways," she said, her voice muffled, "Even if it _was_ an engagement ring, which it most definitely is _not_, it wouldn't feel right getting married before you."

Elsa let go of Anna's hand.

"I…um…Anna, that's very kind of you, but it would be silly to wait until I'm married to get married yourself."

Anna sat up. "I don't think it's silly. You're the older sister. It just wouldn't feel…I don't know. I just don't like the idea of getting married before you've found –"

"The one?" Elsa laughed. "I don't know if I believe in there being such a thing as 'the one', and I'm certainly not going to stop everyone's world from turning until I've been proven right or wrong," she said primly. "So when you and Kristoff feel that you're ready to become engaged, or engaged to be engaged, or whatever it is your heart desires at whatever time it desires it, you just let me know. I'm too busy being a queen and being your sister to also be an interloper."

"But you're so good at it," Anna said, taking back the hand Elsa took away from her only a moment ago. "Where would we be now if you weren't?"

Elsa pushed Anna over. "I wasn't interloping. I was suffering from a crisis of identity."

"Well, just be sure to give us all fair warning when your midlife crisis hits. I'll make sure Gerda lays out my wool flannel pyjamas."

Elsa rolled her eyes, dropping back on the bed next to her sister. "You're hysterical."

They lay quietly next to each other, Elsa holding her book to her chest, her hand still wrapped in Anna's.

"Elsa…"

"Hm?"

"Does it ever..." Anna gave her head a shake. "Nevermind."

Elsa squeezed her fingers. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Anna, come on," Elsa laughed.

Anna's ears started burning up. "Well…fine. Does it ever upset you that I'm…that we…Like…I mean, Kristoff and I –"

"Anna, breathe," Elsa instructed. Anna obeyed her. "Okay, now try again."

"Does it ever make you upset that I've done all these…firsts before you?"

Elsa rolled onto her side to face Anna. "Firsts?"

"Yeah. Like…first dance with…a man, or first afternoon alone with a man…First kiss with…a…" her voice trailed off.

"Reindeer?" Elsa offered. Anna smiled awkwardly, looking mortified.

"You know what I mean," she said. "Does it bother you?"

"Of course not!" Elsa gasped. "Have I ever given you that impression?"

"No, no. You've never said or done anything to make me think that. I just…I just don't like the idea of you being lonely."

"I'm not lonely, Anna. I've got you, Gerda, Kai and Kristoff, Sven and Olaf and…How could I ever possibly feel lonely?"

"Elsa, that's very sweet, but I learned growing up that you can be surrounded by people and still feel very much alone. And…Elsa, you just don't seem like yourself. You seem so…"

"So…what?"

"Just…it's like someone or something snuffed out the light in your eyes," Anna said carefully.

Elsa frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean. I've been fine. Maybe just a little tired."

"Tired?"

"Yes. Tired. I've been so busy these past few weeks, and I've been getting to bed rather late, so…"

She was lying, but Anna let Elsa continue. Once she was done, Anna said, "The court has been giving you a hard time about Hans, haven't they?"

"Yes. I suppose I can't really blame people for thinking it was a mistake to bring him back here," Elsa sighed, sitting up and crossing the room, the book still clutched to her chest.

"No, you can't. I still don't understand why you did it, myself."

Without looking at Anna, she gave the same answer she'd been giving her for weeks.

"I'm the only one who truly knows what he's capable of. I couldn't leave him there."

Anna shrugged her shoulders. "I'm fairly sure I know what he's capable of, too, which is why I have to agree with the court – you probably should have left Hans where he was."

"What happened to you will never happen again, Anna," Elsa said firmly. "I promise you that."

"And what if he unleashes another eternal winter?" Anna asked. "What then?"

"If that happens, I'm the only person equipped to take care of it," she replied, turning her back on her. "What if he unleashed an eternal winter over there? The country would be helpless. People would freeze to death, and the people who didn't freeze to death would starve to death. How would I be able to live with myself if that happened and I could have done something to prevent it?"

Anna frowned, feeling a little ashamed of herself. "You're right," she said quietly. "I'm just being…I don't know. I need to stop letting him get under my skin. Kristoff keeps telling me the same thing, but you know me – I'm stubborn. And…" Anna hesitated. Elsa sat down at her vanity, placing the book down just long enough to pull the grey cape hanging over her chair around her shoulders.

"And?"

"When I went to see him at the docks that night he arrived, I made the mistake of talking to him. He was just as smug as he was just before he left me to freeze to death. God, he's such a jerk. He wasn't the least bit sorry for what he'd done, and…I don't know. I hate him. I really, really hate him, but I wonder sometimes…if I was someone else, would he have fallen in love with me? Could I have made him change his mind, drop his plan and…"

"Anna…" Elsa said softly.

Anna waved her hands and laughed. "No, no, no! I just mean that I've always told myself that he just isn't capable of falling in love, period. But once in a blue moon I wonder if I'm wrong."

"Anna, back then I think the last thing on his mind was falling in love. And you know, of course, that the attention someone pays or doesn't pay you shouldn't subtract from or determine your worth as a person. You're beautiful, Anna. You're so clever and kind, and -"

Anna nodded. "Yeah, I know. I know." Of course she knew Elsa was right – Hans didn't love anyone. Okay, well maybe Sitron. In the end, Hans was just out looking to marry a crown. Any woman could have been under it.

_Still…_

"I just…I want to be…bewitching. Beguiling. Not just 'adorable' or 'funny'. I want to be Helen of Troy."

"Helen of Troy?" Elsa repeated, her eyebrows raised in amusement. She turned towards the mirror of her vanity and started to remove the pins holding up her hair.

"Helen of Troy. Like, I don't want to hang off the front of a boat, or start any wars or anything, but…well, you know what I mean. Who wants to be just 'cute' when they can be 'captivating'?" Anna explained, dropping her voice an octave on "captivating" and batting her eyelashes.

Elsa's hair fell down around her shoulders, frothy and white like sea foam. She began carefully running her fingers through it to make sure she'd gotten all the pins. Anna caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over Elsa's shoulder. Her freckles stood out like points on a map against her ruddy cheeks, and her long red braids looked more like plaited rope just then than the silky scarlet mane of a princess.

"Don't you ever notice the way Kristoff looks at you?" Elsa asked. "Sometimes I'll catch him looking at you and his eyes will be brimming with such awe that I swear you'd think he'd never seen a woman before."

Anna smiled, her heart skipping a beat at her sister's words.

"Anna, what do you know about Helen of Troy?"

"I don't know," she replied absently. "That her face launched a thousand ships."

"Anything else?"

She tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"Oh! She lived in Paris," Anna added proudly.

"She was _married_ to Paris. Paris was the name of her husband."

_Oh. Of course._

"Great. So I'm dumb, too," Anna said glumly, flopping back down on the bed. Elsa turned around in her chair.

"No, silly. I'm asking you because no one really knows anything about Helen of Troy beyond her being 'the face that launched a thousand ships'. All the stories, poems and plays out there have almost nothing else in common with each other except that their version of Helen is always beautiful. Men loved her because she was beautiful. Men fought wars over her because she was beautiful. In one story, her husband is about to kill her for her infidelities until she starts to cry. She's so beautiful when she cries that he changes his mind and takes her back instead. In another story she's about to be stoned to death by a group of men, but they take pity on her when her dress falls open and they see her perfect breasts."

Anna burst into a fit of giggles. "You're making that up!"

"I didn't make it up," Elsa laughed. "Hundreds and hundreds of years have gone by, and the only thing about Helen that seems to have been worth mentioning is that she was beautiful." Elsa smiled.

"I know what you're trying to do, Elsa, and –"

"When Kristoff looks at you, 'beautiful' is just one of a hundred words I see in his eyes. And it's just one of a thousand words in mine."

Anna sat up and walked across the room. She wrapped her arms around her sister, their eyes meeting in the mirror, then tenderly kissed the top of her head. "Goodnight, Elsa."

"Goodnight, Anna."

She closed the bedroom door behind her and strolled lazily down the hall towards her own room, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. She pulled one braid free of its ribbon, and then the next. _Maybe tomorrow I'll try something a little different with my hair. _

After a hot bath and a warm glass of milk, Anna bid Gerda goodnight and climbed into bed. It wasn't until mere moments before she fell asleep that she remembered something Elsa had said. Something that suddenly didn't sit right with her. Something that wouldn't sit right with her for several days following.

"_Anna, back then I think the last thing on his mind was falling in love_."

Back then?


	27. No Heat From Our Mouths

So.

I sense this will be full of typos. I hope you'll forgive me. I also hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

He's baaaa-aaack.

Lots of love,

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 27**  
NO HEAT FROM OUR MOUTHS

Elsa waited until she was sure Anna was asleep before undressing for her bath. Once Gerda made sure Elsa had everything she needed, she shooed the other ladies-in-waiting out of the bathroom adjoining the bedroom and bid her goodnight. It had taken a few weeks to finally convince Gerda that she didn't need to hang around until Elsa was done with her bath. It took even longer to assure the older woman that it wasn't because she didn't need her anymore. Elsa insisted that she liked having the time to herself, and didn't want Gerda to have to wait up for her.

She closed the bathroom door and turned the lock, then removed her robe and slung it over a stool by the full-length mirror. She stepped back and stared studiously at her reflection. She looked no different than she did two months ago when she had to give Hans up. Her hair was a little longer and the rose was gone from her cheek. Her eyes, as Anna had astutely remarked, were overcast with an emotion the younger sister had yet to give name to – immeasurable sorrow.

These were but small and subtle changes that revealed no secrets. She'd honed perfectly good explanations for just about anything and everything her court had thrown at her, but she hadn't yet been able to work out a thing to explain away the biggest change.

Her fingers traced the long, white feather over her ribs that followed the curve of the underside of her left breast, marking her otherwise flawless skin. The scar emitted a soft, white glow that grew brighter whenever her mind wandered in Hans' direction. During the day, she could tuck those thoughts away, reminding herself that she would eventually be free to reflect on her brief but meaningful time with Hans all she wanted once she was alone. She had no regrets, and the shame she felt for falling in love with him had evaporated some time ago, but that didn't mean that she wanted their affair to be brought out into the open. There were dozens of reasons why the events of the past few months had to stay under wraps, some of them a matter of life or death.

She hadn't seen Hans since he was arrested. It was cowardly of her, but seeing him being taken away had been excruciating. She couldn't help him, couldn't say a word. One guard childishly stepped on the back of one of his boots more than once to trip him up, just to be a jerk – such a small thing, but Elsa could feel the freeze throbbing in her joints. Finally she had to look away to keep from freezing the entire interior of the palace – or at least that bully of a guard. How Hans was managing to not fight back, she had no idea. He really had mastered his powers in a astonishingly short amount of time. If she'd had more time with him, she would have asked him to teach her some of his tricks.

Days passed, then weeks. Elsa's feelings of shame only increased as time crawled by.

_I promised him I'd visit him. I told him I'd never forget him._

She hadn't forgotten him, though. She thought of him every day.

_How could he possibly know that?_

Unable to look at her reflection in the mirror any longer, she crossed the room and carefully lowered herself into the porcelain tub, wincing a bit as she sank into the still steaming water. She brought her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. Her face was lit up by the ethereal glow beneath the water's surface emanating from the scar on her chest. Within minutes, the steam gave way to snowflakes and the bath was ice cold. The rim of the tub became barbed with rime, but she barely noticed. She glanced at the mirror through the corner of her eye but found that, mercifully, her reflection had been eaten up by frost. The surface of the water was an icy sheet she distractedly poked holes through with her fingers and toes.

Since Hans had read her that passage from _The Devil's Elixirs_, Elsa had been devouring pages and pages of E.T.A. Hoffmann's works. Her favourite so far was _The Nutcracker and the Mouse King_, but she could certainly understand the appeal of Hoffmann's darker pieces, and there were a lot of those. Knowing what Elsa did about Hans' family, she completely understood what drew him to writers like Hoffmann and John Webster – he probably found stories chock full of characters just as twisted as himself and the rest of the Westergård clan to be a comfort.

One Hoffmann quote kept coming back to her over the past few weeks -

"_Let me ask you outright, gentle reader, if there have not been hours, indeed whole days and weeks of your life, during which all your usual activities were painfully repugnant, and everything you believed in and valued seemed foolish and worthless?" _

The answer was a resounding "yes", and Elsa hated herself for it. That last night she had spent with Hans, she had predicted that saying goodbye to him might eventually spark feelings of resentment towards her position as queen and her subjects. She could not have predicted how soon "eventually" would happen, or how hard it would be to come face-to-face with those resentments every single day and not allow them to have a negative impact on her commitment to her responsibilities.

_You can see him anytime you want to. No one is to blame for your spinelessness but yourself._

Once Elsa was clean, dry and dressed, she crawled into bed and dimmed the lamp on her bedside table. Unfortunately, the mark on her chest was far more difficult to extinguish. He was in her thoughts tonight, more like broken glass in her bloodstream than the silver tongue and flawless green eyes in her dreams, and the feather imprinted on her flesh lit up as brightly as if it were on fire.

"_Tell me you'll come see me."_

"I can't," she whispered as though Hans were in the room with her. _People would ask questions, gossip, start rumours._

_And Anna…_

_God, what if –_

_I would die_, Elsa thought. If Anna ever found out what had happened between them, she would more than likely never want to speak to her again. Elsa would lose her, and she couldn't lose any more people she loved. She wasn't sure she could survive it, and if her past actions were any indication, she was almost certain Arendelle couldn't, either.

**oooOOOOooo**

Elsa wasn't sure whether it was a gift from the gods, or a punishment disguised as a gift, but when she told the captain of the guard that she wanted to do a tour of the prison, not only did he not question why she'd taken such a sudden interest in current prison conditions, he actually seemed delighted.

She decided to wear the drabbest dress and cape in her closet. She thought it would be best not to put on a show; that showing up looking like Marie Antoinette might come across as disrespectful. She pulled her hair back into a loose bun and dressed it with the simplest tiara comb she had. The feather beneath her breast burned bright, but thankfully its light was smothered under a corset, chemise, and a rather heavy layer of cotton. She couldn't see it, but she could feel it in the freeze the closer she was to seeing Hans. Her heart was hammering in her chest, jolting her ribs, and the sound was like thunder in her ears.

She thought she'd be too nervous to speak to anyone during the tour, but she found that her heart easily went out to the prisoners, and that distracted her from her anxieties. They weren't being mistreated as far as she could tell, which was comforting. She asked about their diet, the quality of medical care they received when they were ill or injured, and what measures were taken to maintain the prisoners' comfort in their cells during changes in season. Due to the very short time she spent locked in a cell (though that very short time was long enough as far as she was concerned), Elsa was extremely sympathetic to the prisoners and their needs. They worried about their families' wellbeing outside of the prison walls. They despaired that they would be forgotten. They missed the people they loved, and the people they loved missed them. At the very least, they should know they were well taken care of. They were clean, healthy and, for the most part, comfortable. She made plans to sit down with her court to discuss granting the prisoners a little time outdoors every day, bringing in new books, and organizing for churches to begin asking for donations of used clothes from parishioners.

Once Elsa was satisfied that she'd managed to do some good during the tour, she asked about Hans.

"Has he been giving the guards any trouble?" she asked, feeling sick to her stomach that she couldn't even bring herself to just ask about him without having to pin him as the bad guy.

"No, Your Highness. He's as arrogant and insolent as he ever was, but he's harmless."

Elsa was relieved to hear it. He was alive, he was well, and he was still a mouthy jerk. She felt like she could breathe again.

His cell was one of the newer ones. When she escaped during the eternal winter, she'd caused extensive damage to several, all of which had to be rebuilt. When she saw that he was being kept in a closed cell, her heart broke for him, but she was not surprised. His crime was a far more serious one after all. The barred opening in the heavy wooden door was tiny, and even from where she was standing she could see that the cell was very badly lit in comparison to the others, what with the north-facing window being so high on the wall. A guard opened the door and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Hans had been seated on the bench in dark trousers and a well-worn, formerly white shirt, and from the positioning of his body – shoulders slumped, legs crossed at the ankles – he clearly had no intention of standing, at least not until he saw that it was Elsa. He stood and bowed, and one of the first things she noticed was that he had grown a beard. Or a beard had grown on him, rather. Elsa found it unsettling how much it made him look like his father. His hair was longer, and he was much leaner, but other than the mild scruffiness and rougher edges he didn't appear much different. Elsa couldn't help the little smile that tugged at her lips. He really was okay.

When he straightened out of his bow and his arms dropped to his sides, Elsa heard the rattling of chains.

"What's this?" Elsa demanded, turning towards the two guards standing by. Her voice came out much harsher than she'd intended, but the shock of seeing Hans' hands encased in iron shackles – the same kind of shackles she'd been forced to wear during her brief stint as a prisoner – was a dreadful one.

"Your Highness?"

"Why is he wearing those?" Elsa pointed starchily at Hans' caged hands, her eyes blazing.

Looking positively puzzled, the other guard's head cocked to one side. "Your Majesty, he's wearing those as a safety precaution. Just as you did whe –"

Elsa shot the guard a warning glare.

"I want those terrible things removed immediately," she said.

"Is there a problem, Your Highness?" the captain of the guard asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Whose decision was it to put this prisoner's hands in those shackles?"

"I'm sorry, Your Highness. There was an incident during his first week here with one of our guards and we thought it best that he wear the shackles in the best interest of the other guards and prisoners."

Elsa glanced over her shoulder at Hans to see his reaction to that, but there was none.

"It's inhumane, and I want them removed and destroyed _now_. Where is the guard who reported this 'incident'? I want to speak with him."

"Right away, Your Highness."

The captain gestured for the two men to retrieve the guard in question. He turned his attention back to Elsa. "I'm so sorry, Your Highness. We were only thinking of everyone's safety."

"Just so you know," Elsa said icily, "I wore those same shackles, and if Prince Hans wanted to get out of those things, he could have at any time, but he chose not to."

The captain looked at Hans then shook his head remorsefully. "I apologize, Your Highness. I had no idea."

Elsa's expression softened. "No, you didn't. Next time you have any concerns in regards to this prisoner, please bring them to me. No one understands his powers the way I do."

"_This prisoner"? What's wrong with me?_

"Yes, Queen Elsa."

They continued to wait for the guard in silence. Elsa tried to make eye contact with Hans, but he was avoiding it. She couldn't get a reading on him. Was he angry? Of course she wouldn't blame him in the least. She had mentally prepared herself for it all the way over here. He'd been in this pit for two months. And after everything she'd said about fighting for him, and fighting for her feelings for him…

She hadn't made any strides towards getting him out of here. She hadn't even tried to soften Anna's opinion of him.

The chains keeping him tethered to the floor rattled again softly as he turned to look towards the window.

"Who has the key for those, Captain?" she asked, gazing at Hans, her eyes practically burning holes into his back.

_Please look at me. Why won't you look at me?_

"Officer Benedikt Iver. He is the guard you're waiting to speak with," the captain explained.

Elsa's eyes narrowed.

"Why wasn't the guard reassigned if he feared for his safety?"

"The shackles were put on, so we believed there was no longer any reason for concern. In fact, Officer Iver insisted on remaining he— Ah, here he is," the captain said, looking relieved when Officer Iver walked through the door.

Elsa's shoulders tensed. She recognized Officer Iver immediately as the guard who kept tripping Hans up while escorting him out of the palace. He was tall, taller than both Hans and the captain, broad-shouldered, strong-jawed and handsome. Very handsome. He held his hat under his arm and bowed.

"Your Majesty," he said. His voice was smooth and quite pleasant to the ear. When he straightened, she was struck by his grey eyes and soft smile. "Officer Benedikt Iver. You wished to speak with me? This is indeed an honour."

Elsa blinked, realizing she'd been staring. She cleared her throat.

"Thank you, Officer Iver. First thing's first – I wish for you to remove Prince Hans' shackles. He is not to be subjected to them again."

"Your Majesty, I must object," he said. Elsa frowned.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I believe he is still a danger to the other guards. It's the reason I suggested we put the shackles on him to begin with."

"What makes you think he's a danger?" she asked. Then she raised her hand and waved it dismissively. "You know what? Nevermind all that. I want them removed, and that's all there is to it. I swear on my honour you have nothing to fear from this prisoner. He will not harm you or the other guards."

He shrugged his shoulders and it left a bad taste in Elsa's mouth. "Very well, Your Highness. As you wish."

He slowly put his hat back on, taking his time to secure the chin harness. He was getting uglier by the second. He pat down the pockets on his jacket and trousers, pretending he was having trouble locating the key. Once he "found" it, he sauntered over to Hans who was still staring out the window.

"Prince Hans," Elsa said, and he finally awarded her with his attention. "Your hands."

Hans held his hands out towards Officer Iver. The guard unlocked the iron casings, letting them fall to the floor. The sound sent her heart to her throat.

Elsa gasped audibly and squeezed her eyes shut, her hands covering her mouth.

Hans' hands were completely mangled. The skin was a quilt of open sores and thick scabs, and the knuckles were swollen, misshapen and bruised. His thumbs were contorted into impossible angles. She almost couldn't bear to look at them.

_He's been punished for my cowardice._

She approached Hans to get a closer look at his hands, trying to fight the tears threatening to spring to her eyes. His thumbs would have to be reset for sure, and if it turned out that none of his other fingers were sprained or broken, she would truly be shocked. His eyes finally met hers.

"Poetic justice," he said quietly. She desperately wanted to grab him, shake him, and beg him to tell her why he didn't just remove the shackles himself weeks ago.

But she couldn't here. At least not now.

Elsa crouched down to examine the shackles' casings.

"These _torture devices_ are just barely half the size of his hands!" she sputtered angrily. "And why haven't his wounds been tended to? Didn't these things ever come off?"

Officer Iver was unfazed by her fury. "Of course they would come off. When it's time to eat or –"

"Then I ask you again, Officer Iver – why haven't his wounds been treated? You surely must have noticed the casings were too small."

Officer Iver said nothing. The captain spoke in his place.

"Your Highness, I apologize on behalf of myself, Officer Iver, and for any other guards who may have come into contact with Prince Hans during his time here. I take full responsibility for this egregious oversight. We will bring in someone to examine and tend to his injuries immediately."

"No, Captain. You will not."

Everyone's eyes were on Elsa, waiting for her to elaborate, but hers were squarely on Officer Iver's as she spoke. He looked back at her coolly - a small, self-satisfied smile on his face that only served to infuriate her even more. She ground out her next words, clenching her fists to keep from sealing him up in a cell of his own made entirely of ice.

"Prince Hans' stay here has come to an end."


	28. Wings, Teeth, and Sinews Beneath

So.

This is a shorter chapter than usual, but the next chapter will be up shortly, so I hope you'll bear with me. The next chapter follows one character out the door and through another. I thought that second door needed its own chapter. If that doesn't make sense right now, I'm hoping it will soon. :)

As usual, I really do love and appreciate all your reviews, observations, comments, kindness, and all-around awesomeness. Please don't stop.

See you soon!

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 28**  
WINGS, TEETH, AND SINEWS BENEATH

The palace was open to the public Sunday afternoon as it usually was, and Anna was more than happy things seemed to have gone back to normal…for the most part. The palace tours had resumed, but the place wasn't buzzing with activity the way it had on past Sundays. Anna had been dying to play hide-and-seek with the visiting kids while Elsa did the meet and greet thing with the adults, but there wasn't a child to be found on the premises that afternoon. Not in a hide-and-seek kind of way, either. People were afraid to bring their children to the palace, and Anna couldn't really blame them.

News that Hans had been removed from the prison and was currently being housed somewhere in the palace had spread like wildfire, and everyone was at odds over it. Unfortunately this included Anna and Kristoff, who were barely speaking. Okay, that wasn't exactly true. Kristoff was more than happy to talk to her, but she wasn't obliging him in the least.

**oooOOOOooo**

Anna and Kristoff had been sitting beside each other under their tree by the docks after almost losing her temper with Elsa over the houseguest she'd invited to stay before bothering to check with her.

"You have to stop throwing yourself over every mud puddle in her path, Anna. She's not a little girl and she doesn't need your protection," he'd said after her tirade about how naïve Elsa was to bring the man who'd almost succeeded in killing both of them back into their home.

"Might I remind you that I had to stop that red-scaled dragon from filleting her," Anna snapped.

"After she crippled the country with a massive snowstorm, climbed the North Mountain alone, built a castle out of ice, created that nightmare of a snowman, fended off Weselton's men and –"

"Yes, and after all that Elsa _still_ needed me to protect her," she said, setting her jaw.

Kristoff's eyes widened. "Anna, she made the same mistake you made. You just had the advantage of finding out Hans was the enemy before she did."

"Exactly. And history is repeating itself, but Elsa seems to have developed amnesia. So until she comes to her senses –"

Kristoff groaned tiredly. "When are you going to stop this, Anna?"

"Stop what?" she asked angrily.

"Stop treating her like she's an idiot, or like she's made of glass, or like –"

"She's my sister, Kristoff!" she finally shouted.

Kristoff threw his arms up in the air in frustration. "God, I'm so tired of hearing you say those three words! She's also the ruler of this country, Anna!" he shouted back, his temper finally getting away from him as well. "Start showing her some damn respect, not just because she's your sister, but also because she's your queen."

Anna glared at him, shocked and heartbroken to hear him speak to her that way but determined not to show it. She quickly wiped the beginnings of tears from her eyes and sniffled, jerking away from the gentle hand Kristoff tried to place on her shoulder.

"Anna, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper with you like that. I know you love her and you don't want anything bad to happen to her, but you need to trust her. Remember when we first met and I asked you why you weren't afraid of her? You said, 'Why should I be?' You need to trust her like that again, Anna. You need to trust that she loves you, and that she loves her people, and if she truly believed bringing Hans here was a dangerous idea, then she -"

"I think you should go," Anna interrupted quietly. Kristoff's brows knitted together and he frowned.

"Anna, come on."

She shook her head, staring off at some ships idling in the distance. "I want to be alone right now."

Kristoff shrugged his shoulders resignedly. "Alright, then. Just…I love you, Anna. Just because I disagree with you, it doesn't make that any less true."

Anna remained silent, her stubbornness keeping her from turning and wrapping herself up in his arms, which was what she really needed in that moment. Instead, she continued to watch the ships on the water as Kristoff granted her request, leaving her alone with her thoughts – thoughts that turned into prayers to her mother and father.

_Please don't let this thing with Hans be what it looks like. Elsa almost lost her head once – please don't let her to lose it once and for all._

**oooOOOOooo**

Anna had been gazing at the hem of her dress, hands folded in front of her, when she was brought out of her reverie by the sound of a slap, followed by a collective gasp. When she looked up, Elsa was standing across the room, red-faced with her head turned to the side. She brought a shaking hand to her cheek.

"You show that man mercy, and you show your country - all countries - how weak you really are and how little you care about your people!" an elderly woman was shouting at her. Anna moved swiftly to her sister's side, and a handful of guards advanced on the woman.

"How dare you?" Anna shouted, clenching her fists. She tried to put her arm around Elsa's shoulders, but Elsa waved her off, her head bowed.

"Anna, it's alright," Elsa said quietly. "Guards, stand down."

The guards hesitantly took a couple of steps back from the woman. She whirled around and pointed a finger at them. "He was your friend! Your comrade! You'd protect the woman who wouldn't think twice about leaving you to die here in a frozen wasteland?"

Anna glanced at Elsa who looked just as confused by the woman's words as she was.

"What do you mean? Who was their friend?" Anna asked as Gerda hurried to Elsa and carefully took her face in her hands to get a closer look at the mark on her cheek left behind by the slap. Elsa cast her eyes to the floor, a faraway look in them.

The old woman spoke to Anna, but continued to glare at her sister. "My son. He was one of the soldiers that volunteered to search for you. He naively entrusted the prince with his life. That man your sister is protecting brought my son up to the mountain under the guise of trying to locate a lost, helpless princess so that he could make an attempt on your sister's life. My son took ill shortly after returning from the North Mountain. He grew weaker and weaker, until…"

The woman's voice cracked and her shoulders began to shake. Anna wanted so badly to defend Elsa – to remind the woman that, yes – what Hans did was wrong, so very wrong, but that her son was a soldier, and as a soldier he'd sworn to protect Arendelle. The eternal winter had been so widespread that even if Hans hadn't taken them to the North Mountain, they still would have all ended up waist-deep in snow somewhere, somehow. God, she wanted to blame Hans for the young soldier's death, for everything, really, but everyone had played a part in this. No one was innocent. Elsa had abandoned her responsibilities, Hans had…well…been Hans, and Anna was the idiot who went after her sister alone.

So as much as she wanted to be angry with the old woman for slapping Elsa, she just couldn't. She found herself reaching out to the woman and wrapping her arms around her.

"I'm so sorry you lost your son…" Anna paused to give a chance for the woman to offer up her name.

"Nyström, my lady. Nadia."

Her body relaxed against Anna's and Anna heaved a sigh of relief as she felt their respective thorny defensiveness from moments before melting away. She felt tears prickling her eyes when Nadia raised her arms and wrapped them around Anna. It made Anna think of her mother. She so could have used her advice just then, even though she was sure it wouldn't have been that much different from Kristoff's.

_You need to trust her, Anna. Elsa loves you so. You did it once, and you can do it again._

_God_, she smirked to herself. _I'm going to have to whittle an entire living room set to make it up to him._

Despite the tears in her eyes blurring her vision, when Anna looked up she was still able to see the hurt on Elsa's face with startling clarity as she stood mere feet away with her hand still cupping her injured cheek. Anna's heart sank. She recognized the wild look in her sister's eyes immediately, and knew she had little time to act, but she couldn't very well drop the mourning older woman she still held in her arms.

_No, Elsa. Please. Please don't run awa-_

"Elsa!" Anna cried. Predictably, though, it was too late. Elsa turned and bolted from the room. Gerda rushed after her, but ended up making it no further than the doorway before she was out of breath. When Elsa ran, there was no catching up to her – not until she was ready to be caught anyway. Anna frowned, her arms tightening around Nadia, wishing that the old woman could comfort her the way her mother once did.

At least this time there wasn't a large body of water to cross and a mountain to climb to get to her.

So why did it feel like the distance between them now was even greater than the distance between them then?


	29. Embers

So.

I've been awake for about twenty-four hours now, so if this chapter is riddled with all sorts of grammar and spelling ish, that's my go-to excuse right now. I'll give the chapter another once-over when I wake up this evening - I promise. I do hope you enjoy the chapter as I'm already working on the next one. :)

As always, I appreciate all your reviews, comments, criticisms, et cetera. I hope you'll keep them coming. They really do make a difference in this girl's life.

Lots of love,  
ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 29**  
EMBERS

_Everyone hates me._

_And that poor soldier…_

_Why hadn't anyone told me about him before?_

She ran blindly down one hallway after another. She bounded up staircases and iced doors as she ran through them so that no one would be able to follow her. She couldn't bear to have anyone look at her. She knew that, as queen, no one would give her an honest answer. No one would reprimand her or insist that she own up to her mistakes the way that poor old woman had. They'd tell her the woman was just upset, to not pay any attention to a parent mourning the loss of her son, and that she was a wonderful, kind queen who loved her people. But behind her back…

…_behind my back._

She was surrounded by liars. Even Anna had been tip-toeing around her in regards to Hans being moved into the palace. It wasn't until Elsa saw the way Anna held the old woman, saw her heart break for her, that she was able to see a sliver of how Anna really felt about Elsa harbouring Hans. Anna's mask had slipped. Elsa never thought Anna would ever feel the need to wear one around her.

_Everyone thinks I'm made of glass._

What did Elsa expect? When had she ever given anyone reason to believe otherwise?

Elsa slowed down to a walk, and then a trudge as she wiped the tears from her eyes with a sleeve across her face. Pausing to look around, she recognized the paintings on the walls before anything else – each one was marine-themed – _The Jetty of Calais_, _Shipwreck on the Coast of Norway_, _The Sea of Ice_, among others. The works of art had once been scattered all over the palace, but sometime after their parents' death, for obvious reasons, they had been collected and moved to a wing rarely frequented by Anna or herself. The light from the gas lamps was dimmer here, and the wood panels were a dark, oppressive mahogany. She tried to avoid focusing on any one painting by staring at the satin mules that poked out from beneath the hem of her plum-coloured dress.

This was where Hans was being kept.

Elsa bit her lip. This was where she had been headed this entire time, she realized. She wasn't sure how she knew which pair of doors he was behind, as she hadn't been to visit him since he had arrived here two weeks before, but when her fingers lightly touched the last two doors at the very end of the hall, she felt so strongly that he must be on the other side of them. He'd be angry with her, and he'd have every right to be. No one could lie like Hans, but she'd realized over the course of the past few months that no one could tell the truth like him either. When he was honest with her, he was brutally honest. Just the thought of that made her…

Just the thought of that made her…

"Queen Elsa!"

Two guards appeared at the other end of the hall, out of breath but looking relieved that they'd managed to catch up with her. She recognized them as the men assigned to keep watch over Hans' room. For whatever reason, they had left their post.

"Shouldn't you two be watching these doors?" she snapped, angrier at herself for almost getting caught sneaking into Hans' room than at the guards for leaving him unattended. The guards looked contritely across at each other.

"Forgive us, Your Majesty. We…"

There was an awkward pause, and then the elder of the two spoke up.

"It's very cold up here, Queen Elsa. We needed warmer clothes. Gloves, coats…But neither of us wanted to leave the other alone with…"

Elsa frowned, glancing at them sheepishly. They were afraid of Hans and what he might do to them, and they were afraid to tell her that for fear they'd upset her.

"I want you two to go down to the kitchen and ask for some hot cider, then maybe take a quick stroll around the grounds to warm up. It's a beautiful day outside."

"But…Your Highness…"

They were both looking at her as though she'd lost her mind. That could very well have been. She waved them off with a smile she hoped they wouldn't be able to see through.

"Go on, now. I'm due to check in on Prince Hans myself anyways. I'll be sure to do something about the cold," she said, hoping a lovely demeanour would alleviate any suspicions they might have. "No one understands the cold better than me after all," she giggled demurely. The men laughed along with her.

She was getting good at this, she decided.

Once left alone, Elsa closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. With a quick wave of her hand, she filled the lock with ice to create a makeshift key. She turned it and listened for the click. With one long, calming breath, she pushed on the door to open it.

The room was cold and dark, and Elsa could feel the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. The floor was a large, black expanse of ice that traveled up the walls and darkened the windows. The air was so dry that it was almost uncomfortable to breathe. In a few deep breaths she actually began to feel light-headed.

When Hans turned to look at her from across the room, her heart stopped. It was as though she was walking into that room back at the Westergård palace all over again. He had been staring at one of the blacked out windows like he could see right through it. He was sitting at a round wooden table that was lightly covered in snow, a full plate of food sitting in front of him – a hunk of buttered bread, cod fillet, rutabaga, creamed peas and shredded red cabbage.

They looked at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence. Elsa's hand clenched painfully around the door handle behind her back. The fingers on her other hand lightly tapped just below her left breast and the white feather that marked her skin.

"You…I…um…" she sputtered. "You haven't eaten."

Hans tilted his head to one side, bemused by the first words she'd spoken to him in weeks. She squeezed her eyes shut and cursed under her breath. "I just…I mean…"

This was not the romantic reunion she'd had in mind.

Hans raised his eyebrows, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. It seemed that he'd decided he wasn't going to go out of his way make this easy for her, and she deserved that.

"You should probably eat," she said.

"I can't," he finally replied.

Elsa took a few tentative steps towards him.

"Is it cold? Does it need to be warmed up? Should I call someone to –"

Hans brought his hands out from beneath the table, holding them up for her to see. They were wrapped in so many layers of bandage that they looked almost three times their size.

"Oh…" Elsa exclaimed guiltily.

"I'm having a tad bit of trouble with the bones," he said, gesturing at the cod filet with a tilt of his chin.

"Have you been able to eat at all since you've been here?"

"Queen Elsa, why are you here?" he asked, ignoring her lame attempt at small talk.

Her brows knitted together.

_Queen Elsa…_

The distance that single word put between them…

_Queen…_

Her stomach roiled.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her mouth suddenly very dry.

Hans leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs under the table. "Exactly what I asked. Why are you here? For two months you didn't bother yourself to come see me –"

"I –"

"And when you finally do decide to pay me a visit, you barely speak to me."

Elsa wrung her hands together. "It's only because –"

Hans sighed. "You have me brought here, and then you vanish again –"

"Hans, please. I hadn't meant to –"

"—so I believe I've asked a reasonable question at this juncture," he continued calmly. "Why are you here?"

Elsa closed her eyes and swallowed. The freeze swelled inside her, lapped at her bones, rolled and crashed against the insides of her skull. She clenched her fists at her sides.

"I needed to see you," she whispered.

"Ah," Hans chuckled sourly. "Very nice."

Elsa took another few steps towards him. "I _wanted_ to see you," she amended. "Of course I wanted to see you, Hans."

Hans pursed his lips and nodded slowly before looking away. Elsa's eyes welled with tears and her chin began to wobble. Her voice cracked as she spoke.

"You promised," she said. "You promised you wouldn't change."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.

She circled the table, ducking back into his eye-line. "You're literally taking my mistreatment of you sitting down."

"A broken promise for a broken promise," he answered evenly.

"So call me a liar," she said. "Call me a coward. Tell me we're the same, you and I. Tell me you believed in me, that I disappointed you, and that you should have known better. Just…God, Hans. Tell me you hate me, that I've broken your heart, that I'm the first and the last woman you'll ever love because you'll never be able to trust anyone ever again –"

Hans shook his head. She could see that he was biting the inside of his cheek as though he were trying to keep from speaking his heart. The cold, dry air was filled with static electricity – his and hers combined – and it popped and crackled up the walls, across the rafters, and even along their spines.

"Tell me how stupid you feel," she cried. "How you wished you'd left Arendelle when I had given you the chance, how you wish you'd never kissed me –"

"All of those things!" Hans finally erupted, composure all but withered away in the face of a burning anger that set fire to his features and launched a second white forelock through his red hair. "You said I'd never be alone again. I told you I wouldn't hold you to that promise, but you _insisted that I did_."

He stood and kicked the chair out from under him, almost sending the table and its contents soaring violently across the room on a gust of wind with a wave of one of his bandaged hands. His eyes darkened, and the walls began to creak as the wind grew stronger. The blue snowflake emblazoned on his chest flared and the white feather on hers answered in kind.

"Then tell me you wish you'd never sent that letter to me, Hans. Tell me you wish you'd never met me," Elsa said, a hint of pleading in her voice.

Looking perplexed, Hans' eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Despite his confusion, and probably only out of sheer curiosity, he granted her request. "I wish I'd never met you," he said implacably. Elsa's mouth quirked with what could only be described as arousal. She hoped Hans wouldn't ask her to explain why, but she found his honesty…stimulating. She missed having a person in her life, as short a time as it was, that didn't handle her like a champagne flute. She missed the Hans that had bent her back over his arm and tattooed his initials on her heart, the man that had ripped her dress trying to get it off of her, the man who drove himself into her with all the delicateness of a chariot race and kissed her with every shade of darkness and light in him.

Hans took several determined steps towards her. She took the same number of footfalls back.

"Tell me you're a coward," he said.

"I'm a coward," she whispered.

"And a liar," he hissed.

"Yes," she said.

"_Say it_," he growled. It sent a delicious little shiver down her spine. She squeezed her thighs together beneath her skirts, feeling the freeze thrumming through her veins, pooling between her legs.

"I'm a liar," she breathed, letting him close the distance between them in three strides. He inhaled the scent of her hair, licked his lips and pressed them to her ear.

"Tell me you'll do anything to make it up to me."

Elsa nuzzled the hollow of his throat. He smelled like shaving soap and clean linens. She raised herself up onto the tips of her toes. "Anything," she whispered, her icy breath ghosting along the strong line of his clean-shaven jaw. He trembled, and she knew it wasn't because of the cold. The white feather drummed against her heart as her hand sought out his. "I'll do anything to make it up to you."

Her fingers lightly traced the outline of his frozen heart, teasing it with the assurance that the freeze could be his if only he would ask for it. His head lolled back and he let out a low, guttural moan.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she said, smiling. "Did you say something?"

His response was a breathless chuckle and a tilt of his hips against the soft curve of her belly. She started to pluck at the buttons of his shirt, and his eyes fluttered closed. She slid the fabric back over his shoulders, biting her lip to suppress a sob gaining strength at the back of her throat. It sounded silly, but she missed his skin – its pallor, the smattering of freckles that began on his shoulders and grew fainter and sparser the further down his chest and back they went. She lightly raked her fingernails down his chest, capturing one of his nipples and giving it a painful twist between her thumb and forefinger before flattening her hand over his heart and releasing the freeze into it with one powerful blast.

Hans gasped, wrapping her up in his arms and pulling her against him tightly with one bandaged hand over the other. He growled into her ear, "If my injuries weren't keeping me from it, I'd bend you over that table and fuck you until your legs couldn't hold you up anymore."

Elsa laughed nervously, taken aback by his unabashed use of _that word_.

"Or maybe I'd have you up against those doors…" he rasped. Elsa closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "…crying out so loudly that you'd have no choice but to tell everyone on the other side of them that their worst fears have officially been confirmed – once, twice…three times…four times…"

"Hans…" Elsa whispered, blushing furiously. She would never say it out loud – thinking about it alone made her feel wicked enough – but the idea of pushing the boundaries of their secret affair to see how close they could get to the line without toppling over it excited her. Despite outward appearances, Elsa was the far more mischievous sister. Before she and Anna had been separated back when they were children, Elsa was "the one who should know better". Anna had been too young to really understand that sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to turn the ballroom into a private winter wonderland wasn't proper princess conduct. Anna just wanted to have fun. Elsa looked forward to the next morning when the doors would open and the avalanche of snow would pour out into the hallway, much to the bewilderment of the house staff. Her parents would take the sisters aside and scold them privately about how wildly inappropriate their behaviour was. She and Elsa would tell their parents how sorry they were, then Anna would be dismissed.

"Wait just one moment please, Elsa," her father would say once Anna had disappeared through the doors ahead of her. He would get down on one knee and take her shoulders in his hands. "Your mother and I are very disappointed. We expect more from you. You're the big sister here, Elsa – you should know better."

"I know. I'm sorry, Papa," she would say, eyes cast downward, trying her best to look as sincerely remorseful as possible. She'd glance over his shoulder at her mother, who always ended up looking like she was trying not to laugh. She knew her elder daughter wasn't even a little sorry, though she seemed to appreciate her efforts to at least appear apologetic, if only to put her poor father's mind at ease until the next time Anna was hit with another bout of insomnia.

_You're still the big sister, Elsa. And you should still know better._

But with Hans' voice in her ear, that was an easy truth to temporarily mollify with a half-hearted apology before going ahead and doing what she wanted to do anyway. And there was so much she wanted to do with Hans.

"It sounds like you missed me," she said to him, letting her hand drift down from the back of his neck to the front of his trousers. She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face when her forwardness caused him to nearly jump out of his skin. He was hard, like she knew he would be. "It feels like you missed me, too."

He sighed and arched into her hand. She cupped him through the fabric and squeezed ever-so-gently. He let out a hoarse moan. "God…"

"I'd prefer if you called me 'Elsa'," she chuckled softly.

"Be careful," he warned. "I've thought about almost nothing but you for nearly three months now - reliving me taking you on that bed back home, you riding me in that chair in the library - over and over again, with my hands in those blasted shackles the entire time."

Elsa didn't immediately get his words' meaning, and not just because her memory of those events were suddenly driving her to distraction.

He smiled and leaned into her ear. "You look confused."

"I am a little," she admitted bashfully.

"What you're doing to me now," he said, looking pointedly down between them at the hand still fondling his erection. "Well…I usually do it myself."

Elsa's eyes widened. "Oh…I…um…"

"Haven't you ever...? You must have!" he said, looking genuinely surprised. "You've never…done it yourself?"

"No," Elsa answered, wondering absently if it was actually scientifically possible to die of embarrassment. "I've never thought to…I wouldn't even know how to…begin to…" Her life was starting to flash before her eyes.

Hans grinned. "Really. If you'd like, I can…maybe talk you through it."

"_Talk me through it?_" Elsa arched an eyebrow at him. He held his bandaged hands up in front of her again to remind her of his predicament.

"I can't very well show you now, can I?" he replied. "And might I remind you that you said you'd do anything I asked."

"Well, yes…but," Elsa stammered uneasily, involuntarily looking more scandalized than seductive just then.

"You want to be a woman of your word again, don't you?"

"Yes," she answered ruefully.

Hans leaned in close, and she found that her heart was beating faster and her eyes were closing for the kiss her spinelessness these past two and a half months had denied her. Instead, his lips and increasingly ragged breathing were at her ear again.

"Then may I have a word with you, Your Grace?" he asked thickly.

"Just one?" Elsa replied breathlessly. His eyes narrowed and a smug little smile tugged playfully at features. God, she wanted to kiss that mouth more than anything else in the world in that instant. She knew, of course, that they'd have to address their relationship issues in due course – that what they were doing just then was only delaying that inevitability. She _knew_ that.

_Still…_

Her fingers sprung back to life, and she began stroking him through his trousers again. He rested his forehead against hers, murmuring _"Fuck…"_ under his breath. She thrilled at the sound of that word on his lips a second time.

She didn't point out that he'd just used up his one word. In fact, she decided to stop counting words altogether, because as far as she was concerned, what she needed most just then was a good talking to, and that was going to take as many words as it was going to take.

And she wasn't the least bit sorry about that.


	30. Nightingale

So.

Forgive me if this is full of typos. I literally can only barely keep my eyes open right now. I will do a little proof-reading tomorrow, but in the meantime...

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 30**  
NIGHTINGALE

_How can he do this to me?_

_Hans…_

Elsa slid down the length of the wall, her useless legs collapsing beneath her. She looked up at Hans, at the smug little grin on his face, and shook her head, crossing her trembling hands over her heart.

"How can you do this to me?" she asked weakly.

Hans cocked his head to one side and shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't do a thing." He lowered himself on one knee and reached out a bandaged hand to tilt her chin up so he could look her in the eye. She looked back at him hazily. "You did this to yourself, Your Grace."

Elsa glanced up at the clear window, the sheets of ice having fallen away from the glass and dissolved into the air like the rest of the snow and ice that had piled up in the room over the course of the past couple of weeks. The sun was beginning to set.

"Kai will come looking for me soon," she said.

"I'm not afraid of him," Hans smirked.

She rested her head on his shoulder.

"How's your hand? Did I hurt you?" she asked quietly.

"Excruciatingly," he said. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "But it was worth it."

She had bit him – _hard - _but it was either that or let anyone who might be within earshot get a hint of what she had just been up to. The layers of bandage only offered Hans so much protection from her deceptively powerful jaw.

"How's _your _hand?" he asked.

"Oh, don't," Elsa groaned, turning to bury her face in his chest.

"What are you embarrassed about? You're still alive, I'm still alive, nobody got hurt, and nobody under the age of eighteen was present, so no young, innocent minds were warped –"

"Oh my God, stop it," she laughed.

"Though, just between you and me," he said, "sixteen-year-old me was doing backflips the _entire time_."

Elsa had stood on her own two feet for as long as she could. She had no idea she'd come to lose control of her senses so completely when Hans first instructed her to lean against the wall with her back to him, the hem of her dress gathered up around her thighs. His lips stayed at her ear, the front of his body flush against the back of hers.

When he had told her he would "talk her through it", she'd had something else in mind. Something more…clinical. But that wasn't what happened at all. He merely told her to touch herself. She'd laughed nervously when he'd given her the inexplicit suggestion. Touch herself. Sure, she was naïve, but she knew that much at least. And then what?

She tentatively started to touch herself, just through the silk fabric of her drawers at first. Not giving her the chance to let her nerves or any feelings of shame delay the task (literally) at hand any further, Hans began to speak. He was a born storyteller, she decided, just before letting her fingers slip through the split in her drawers as he set the stage for an imagined clandestine meeting between the two. As he spoke, he would roll his hips against her backside, almost lifting her heels off the ground as her fingers took on many forms inside her – his icy breath, his clever tongue, his long fingers, his…

Her legs began to wobble beneath her, and Hans' arm appeared from behind her, flattening as much as it could against the wall to keep the two of them upright when it seemed that even he was beginning to lose his balance.

His voice grew increasingly rougher, his breathing more ragged as her fingers began to move with greater urgency between her legs. She was barely aware of the freeze; all she knew was the sound of Hans' voice in her ear, and the pulsing against the pads of her fingers. She weakly reached around herself, cupped Hans in her hand, her thumb stroking him none-too-gently through his trousers. She was fast losing dexterity in both her hands, so unfastening Hans' clothing to free him of their confines was an impossibility, but he moaned his appreciation of her efforts as he rocked into her again.

Hans' other arm had been wrapped around her waist, but he must have recognized the signs that she was almost at her end – the tightening of her body, the galloping breaths and the faint mewls of pleasure that started to bleed into them, longer and louder… Before she knew what was happening, she was biting down hard on Hans' offered hand, and swallowing one delirious cry after another as her body erupted into spasms between her fingers and the man whose words had guided them. Moments before she fell lax in his arms, he had urged her to let him know "when you're going to come", but when she came (she could only assume that the tightening and subsequent feeling of euphoria was what he was referring to), the words just couldn't. She could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak it aloud.

She tilted her head for the kiss – the real kiss she'd wanted and needed from the moment after they'd shared their last in the library before their goodbyes, but it never came.

"Thank you," Hans whispered, pressing a moist kiss to her temple instead.

"For what?" she asked breathlessly, quickly shaking off the feeling that something was wrong.

"For letting me see you undone," he replied.

Releasing a long, contented sigh, she murmured, "How can you do this to me?"

Once Elsa's faculties had returned to her, she gazed mournfully at Hans. Soon she'd be expected to make an appearance in the dining room, whether anyone wanted her there or not, simply so that she could push the food on her plate around a couple of times with her fork to disguise the fact that she had no appetite.

"You know, I thought that once my powers were no longer a secret and I took back the throne, things would…" Elsa struggled a little trying to find the right words.

"Go back to normal?" Hans suggested.

"Well, no. There was never a normal to go back to. I guess I thought that was the end of the story. The end of _my_ story, I mean," Elsa said softly.

"I'm not sure how you thought that was going to work. You're young, you're healthy, you're unmarried…"

"I am, aren't I? And I feel like all that is wasted on me. I don't want to think it, but sometimes I can't help but wish that…" She brought her knees to her chin and rested against them. She didn't want to say it, but she knew by the way Hans had stopped breathing that he already knew what her next words would be. It would be cowardly not to speak them aloud. "I wish I'd never gone to see you."

Hans nodded silently.

"I'm sorry. I feel terrible for thinking it," she said miserably.

"Hearing it isn't a box of chocolates either," he replied. "But if I were to be one hundred percent honest –"

Elsa's eyes widened and she pointed at the window. "Hey, was that a pig that just flew past the window?"

"Har-har," Hans said flatly. "What I was going to say was that _if_ I _were_ to be honest, I'd admit that I've made the same wish more than once myself."

"You wish I'd never…?"

"Yes," he said. "You'd be happy."

"You'd be dead," Elsa said.

"You wouldn't know the difference," Hans pointed out. "If you had never left Arendelle to see me, you wouldn't have fallen for my infinite charm and wit, good looks, and –"

"Okay, easy there."

"And you would never have known what a good kisser I am –"

"Oh, please," Elsa laughed. She knew he was just trying to keep things light after her ugly confession, and it only made her want to skip dinner and stay with him even more. What she really wanted to do just then was massage the feeling back into her fingers, grab both his shoulders, pin him to the floor and –

"I have to tell you something."

Oh, no.

_I have to tell you something._

Those six words never boded well for the two of them. Elsa mentally braced herself – against what, she had no idea, but her heart skipped so many beats in that moment that her breath became lost to her and she wondered if she'd ever get it back.

"Before you say anything else, what you're going to tell me – is it the truth to undo a lie you've already told me, or is it something you've kept from me?"

"I thought we'd decided that one wasn't worse than the other," Hans said as he leaned in close, touching her earlobe with the very tip of his tongue as he licked at his dry lips. "You know what's happening, don't you?"

"No," Elsa sighed, a delicious shiver moving through her despite her frustration with Hans for trying to use the promise of sex as a distraction. _Please, not now._ It was time to tell him what she'd been strongly suspecting for months – that there was a real possibility he could slowly freeze himself to death from the inside out if he wasn't careful. She had thought that if she wasn't around to stir up his emotions – good or bad – he would be okay. But after seeing the storm he was able to conjure when he lost his temper earlier, she knew that being in his life again, even if infrequently, meant that he could start inadvertently hurting himself again.

"You're qualifying. For me. It's incredibly romantic."

"I hate to burst your bubble, Hans, but I'm actually qualifying for myself."

"Yourself?" he chuckled softly. "Nothing arouses me more than self-preservation. I could pull you into my lap right now. My kingdom for a pair of working thumbs."

"Hans, I'm serious!" she said insistently. "I've been keeping something from you to protect myself at _your_ expense. At _your life's_ expense."

He finally pulled away from her to look her in the eye. "Let me speak first."

Elsa narrowed her eyes and frowned. "Why?" she asked carefully.

Hans smiled sadly. "Because I suspect that after I tell you what I have to tell you, whatever you've kept from me will no longer matter."

"Hans, you're scaring me."

His gaze softened, and she felt her chest tighten. His eyes…

She saw pity in them, sadness, resignation…

"Does this have something to do with why you won't kiss me?" she suddenly blurted out. Hans blinked, surprised by the outburst. "You've been afraid to get too close to me since I got here," she continued, her voice coming out harsher than she meant it to. "You've been trying to distract me with your body, with my body, with your words, but you won't kiss me. You won't tell me you love me. And now you've got that look in your eyes…that goodbye look." Crossing her arms, she held herself tightly, muscles tensed as though it was the only way she'd be able to keep from breaking apart. "I'm being selfish. I know I'm being selfish. I'm holding you emotionally hostage even though I know we can never be together in any real way. I have no right to ask you to…"

…_stay._

She couldn't finish the sentence. As much as she hated herself for it, a single sob got away from her and the next thing she knew, she was crying with no sign of stopping anytime soon.

_Great_, she thought. Just add emotional blackmail to the list of everything else she was doing to ruin the lives of everyone she cared about.

"Elsa…" Hans whispered, shaking his head.

"Don't," she moaned. "Please, don't."

"I have to," he said. Raising her hands, Elsa childishly tried to cover her ears, but Hans used his arms to bring them back down to her sides, forcing her to listen to what he had to say.

"I made a deal with my father. In exchange for a chance at freedom, I would have to make you my wife within three months of leaving the Southern Isles, otherwise someone would be sent to 'fetch me'. It was stupid, but it was the only way I could get to you. I was so afraid you were going to hurt yourself. You said that you'd slit your throat if you found out you were carrying my child. What could I do? I knew the chance that you were was slim, but what if I was wrong? Or worse yet, what if you believed by some miscalculation that you_ were_ pregnant?"

"Are you out of your mind?" Elsa whispered, utterly bewildered. "You knew I wouldn't marry you! And even if there was a chance I would, there was never going to be a chance that I _could_," she cried. "And I haven't wanted to admit that out loud, but now…" Elsa looked up at him, chin wobbling, tears staining her cheeks. "It's never going to happen, is it? We can't ever be together the way I want us to be."

Hans tried to pull her quaking body against his, but without working hands, he was easy to fight off. His shoulders slumped in defeat as Elsa got to her feet and stepped around him.

"Elsa, come on," Hans pleaded. "Just listen."

She crossed the room, leaving a trail of black ice behind with every stride that fanned out in all directions. Soon the floor and walls were completely coated with her anger and frustration. The ice on the window quickly condensed, blacking it out, plunging the room and everything in it into darkness – all except for Elsa. The freeze growing stronger inside of her caused the white feather over her heart to burn. She needed some sort of release, but the North Mountain was a long way off.

She crossed her arms and shook her head, keeping her back to him. She could hear Hans' footsteps as he approached her.

"Hans…" she began unsurely. "I can protect you."

"I don't want to fight with you, Elsa. I just wanted to let you know what was going on. I've imposed on you and your kingdom long enough."

"I never thought I'd say this," Elsa muttered, "but I miss when you were –"

"A monster?" Hans suggested. "Because I don't."

"I was going to say 'driven'."

Hans' hand tapped at his heart. "Ouch," he whispered, looking genuinely hurt. "Let me ask you something, Queen Elsa…"

_Back to 'Queen Elsa' again_, she thought sadly, but said nothing.

"You don't want me dead. You don't want me in prison. And now you seem to have changed your mind about letting me go – now you want me to stay. I've had so much time alone to think, and I still haven't been able to figure it out - what exactly _do_ you want?"

Elsa let her arms drop to her sides. "I don't know," she said sharply. "I want you to go. I want you to stay. I want this all to stop. I want to be able to get to know you properly, and have you get to know me. I want snowball fights. I want to learn how to dance, and I want you to teach me. I want to sit under a tree with you, reading books and eating all our favourite foods. I want to _know_ what your favourite foods are."

She clenched her fists, and the panels of ice coating the walls began to glow a dark, angry red. The feather emblazoned on her chest felt like it was on fire. Hans took some steps towards her but she smoothly conjured a barrier between them. This time, though, he willed it away without a second's pause.

"If it isn't an emotional wall, it's an actual wall. No more walls, Queen Elsa," he said angrily.

"You're one to talk about erecting walls," she snapped back. "'Queen Elsa'? That isn't your way of putting distance between us? That isn't a wall?"

"That was all you," he said. "You made us strangers. The damn shackles did less damage to my hands than you did to me. You abandoned me in that prison."

"I apologized for that!" Elsa shouted.

"You should know better than anyone that apologies don't guarantee forgiveness," he replied calmly.

Elsa scowled at him. "I just thought of something else I want. I want us to stop this. Every time we see each other, we argue. We try to hurt each other, we say a bunch of things we regret – or at least I do – and then before we can ever resolve anything, we end up…" She paused, too embarrassed to continue.

Hans arched an eyebrow and smirked, ready to tease her, but she shot him a warning glare. Now was not the time. He cleared his throat and nodded, "Okay. No more arguing."

Elsa smiled, looking a little relieved. Not for long, though.

"You need to let me go," Hans said. Elsa shook her head, eyes wide with panic. "Elsa," he said again, insistently, "_You need to let me go_."

_He's right. I know he's right._

_But…_

_No, you know what? He isn't. I can protect him._

"I'm not letting you go."

Hans tried to reach for her again, but again she dodged him.

"I'm not letting you go, Hans. You're safe here. And…" Elsa took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around herself.

_You have to tell him._

"And?" Hans smiled kindly. He'd made up his mind. He was only hearing her out now out of politeness.

She wrung her hands together. "And I think the freeze is killing you. Or…well…I think it _could_ kill you."

Hearing the words out loud – _I think it could kill you_ – made her feel sick. How could she withhold information like that for so long? It made sense at the time – she didn't think she could trust him not to use the freeze to try to take Arendelle from her again. But now…

Hans' face betrayed nothing. His silence was exceedingly unnerving the longer it went on. All Elsa could think to do was to keep talking.

"I've suspected it for a while now. You have no idea how ashamed I am for keeping it to myself, but I wasn't sure I could trust you. I have to put the safety of my people ahead of my feelings for…" Elsa squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't look at him. He continued to stand perfectly still, the same blank look on his face. "I love you, Hans. I love you so much, but I couldn't see into the future. I had to weigh your life against the lives of hundreds of people. I couldn't tell you the freeze might be a danger to you without also telling you it was inside you, that it was at the mercy of your emotions, and I had no idea what you would have done had you known you had access to that power." Elsa pressed her hand to her chest. The movement caught Hans' eyes. He stared at her curiously. "_This_ power," she said, gesturing to her heart. "I chose you over and over again in here, Hans…thousands of times in my heart."

Elsa reached out to touch one of his bandaged hands, but she hesitated just short of making contact. He was staring at the hand still on her chest.

"Hans…please say something?"

"I want you to let me go. If you love me, you'll let me go," he whispered. "We're at an impasse, Queen Elsa."

"Don't call me that," Elsa cried. "Please…"

He gazed stonily back at her. "If you can't see that by keeping me here I'm no better off than I was as a prisoner of my parents, you couldn't possibly love me."

She took a step back as though he'd struck her open-palmed across her face. "How can you say that to me? I'm trying to protect you from them!" she shouted, forgetting herself. _People will hear you._

"No, what you're trying to do is leave me trapped in this limbo you've created to keep me close, but not too close."

"I'm trying to keep you safe," Elsa said, straining to keep her voice at a nice, respectable level in case the two guardsicles she'd sent off to defrost earlier had returned to their post.

"Then you've learned nothing from your parents' mistakes," Hans said plainly. "You've locked me up the same way your parents locked you up. They weren't trying to keep you safe, Elsa – they were trying to keep the world safe from you. And now you're doing the same thing - except you're not trying to keep the world safe from me, despite how many times you've no doubt tried to convince yourself otherwise. You're trying to keep _yourself_ safe from me."


	31. Safe in a Casket of Your Selfishness

So.

2016 is here and I hope you're happy to see it. If not, I hope you're taking good care of yourself and that the new year will eventually bring about good things for you.

This chapter was supposed to be twice as long, but when I saw the first half of the chapter and the intro of the second half of the chapter together, it just didn't feel right. Maybe you'll see what I mean when I post what is now going to be the next chapter (which will be up in the next couple of days). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy what I _have_ posted so far. Thank you as always for taking the time to read Spun. It really does mean so much to me.

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 31**  
SAFE IN A CASKET OF YOUR SELFISHNESS

"I'm trying to keep you safe."

"Then you've learned nothing from your parents' mistakes," Hans said plainly. "You've locked me up the same way your parents locked you up. They weren't trying to keep you safe, Elsa – they were trying to keep the world safe from you. And now you're doing the same thing - except you're not trying to keep the world safe from me, despite how many times you've no doubt tried to convince yourself otherwise. You're trying to keep _yourself_ safe from me."

Elsa shook her head. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You're here, aren't you? I brought you here. I wanted you near me."

Hans snorted dismissively. "You didn't bring me here. _ I_ brought me here. _ I_ wanted to be near _you_."

Elsa's eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. "What do you mean 'I brought me here'? I brought you here because you were so badly injured that…" She paused, suddenly feeling so incredibly stupid.

_His hands…_

She reached out to touch him, but he took several steps back and turned away. Not before she saw the tears balancing in the corners of his eyes, though. He shook his head and the tears fell away as twinkling infant snowflakes.

"Is that why you didn't try to escape from those shackles? Were you waiting for me to…?"

"You said you wouldn't forget about me – you couldn't forget about me," he muttered, with his back still turned to her. "Days turned into weeks, and –"

"Hans, are you insane? Some of the damage those casings did to your hands could be permanent! You must have been in so much pain!"

He shrugged his shoulders. "After a while, I barely noticed it."

Elsa closed the distance between them, drawing her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back. His body stiffened.

"You're lying," she said softly.

"I'm too tired to climb out of my box today," came his reply.

Elsa ignored that. Instead, she squeezed him tighter. "Moments ago you accused me of not loving you, but you didn't destroy those casings because you knew that seeing you hurt would hurt me. You knew I'd want to get you as far away from that prison as possible. You knew I'd bring you here." She placed her hands over his bandaged ones. "Your plan wouldn't have worked if I didn't love you, Hans."

Hans loosened himself from her hold on him. "My plan _didn't_ work. I didn't want to be 'as far away from that prison as possible'. I wanted to be closer to you. And you've made it perfectly clear that _this_," he said, gesturing at the space between them, "—is as close as I get."

"If memory serves me correctly, we were much closer than _this_ only less than an hour ago," Elsa said, arching her eyebrow and trying her very best to look kittenish. Hans was clearly not in the mood for her attempts at flirting. She frowned, starting to feel a little queasy.

"Maybe I wasn't trying to punish you," he said quietly, more to himself than to her. "Maybe I was trying to punish myself."

"For what?" Elsa asked weakly.

Hans didn't speak for the longest time, and the silence gave Elsa too much time to look at him, take in every detail of him, and to decide that she couldn't let him go. She could never let him go.

_What am I saying? What does that mean?_

"I thought you'd forgiven me for not seeing you sooner. I thought everything was okay."

"For a little while I thought everything was going to be okay, too." When his eyes settled on hers again, she felt like a hand was closing around her throat. "You wanted me dead," he whispered. The stone mask he wore slipped just the tiniest bit. More tears waited behind it.

Elsa shook her head, "I didn't. That's not at all what I said."

"I tricked my parents into allowing me to come here, convinced them to delay my execution. I travelled for days, walked miles across frozen waters, praying to the moon, the stars…praying to anything skyward that you'd agree to see me when I arrived because your life mattered to me. It mattered to me more than my own. It still does – "

"Then stay," Elsa pleaded. "Please stay. I can't…"

She wanted to tell him that, in that moment, she was convinced that if he left for good, she'd stop breathing. She started to feel weak, as though the very life he claimed to have cherished so was slowly bleeding away through the tips of her fingers. She reached out for him again, wanting him to take her hands, to stop the bleeding – but he couldn't even if he wanted to, she thought, looking at his bandages as another wave of guilt sent her stomach roiling.

Hans pulled his shoulders back, standing taller and straighter than he had in a long time. "Forgive me, then."

Elsa's brows knitted together. Her mouth suddenly went dry. He was challenging her. He knew she wasn't ready to forgive him, but he was going to force her hand anyway.

"I…I don't know if – "

"You continue to maintain that outside forces are what's keeping us apart, but you're lying to yourself, and now you're lying to me, too." Hans said steadily, despite the very subtle shaking of his bottom lip. "It isn't like I don't deserve it. Like you've reminded me so many times in the past – I'm almost incapable of telling the truth. But I don't want you to become me, and if you keep up with this charade, you'll lose everything just as I have. I love you too much to let that happen, Your Grace."

Elsa's hand went to her heart, pressed against it to be sure it was still beating. "Hans, I don't underst— "

"You're the force that's keeping us apart. You're the most powerful person I've ever known. Your strength is positively breathtaking, and I look at you sometimes and wonder how you could possibly want to waste even an ounce of that strength on keeping me here. I'm not worth this struggle, Elsa."

She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but before she could speak the words, he continued.

"The thing is, I know I'm not worth the struggle. You know it, too, but you're determined to remain blind to it because it's easier than admitting that you're ashamed of your feelings for me. That is what is keeping us apart, and that is what keeps me locked up in this room."

"I'm not ashamed of my feelings for you! God, how can you even say that to me?" Elsa asked hoarsely.

Hans shrugged his shoulders. "Then forgive me."

Despite the air of nonchalance he was working so hard to put forward, Elsa could practically taste the waves of fear rolling off his body. _He doesn't want to be right_, she thought. She took that as a sign that there was still hope.

_There's still a chance I can convince him to stay._

Three words. If she could say them aloud, she could prove him wrong. More than that – she could save them both from a future apart. Saying "I love you" came easily, though she hadn't realized it at the time. Her tongue, mind and heart were perfectly aligned that day. _But how can I for—_

"I love you," she said feebly, knowing those weren't the three words he was waiting for.

"Tell me you forgive me," he said again. "It's only the first step, but it's the only first step. If you can't forgive me, there's no future here."

Elsa wrapped her arms around herself. She was shivering. The white feather beneath her breast pressed against her heart like a cold blade – a kind of cold she couldn't ever remember feeling before. She stood before him now as simply Elsa – not the ruler of a country, not the sister of the woman he'd betrayed and left for dead. She couldn't hide behind her responsibilities as queen, her court's expectations, or Anna's heartbreak. This was between his heart and hers.

_Just say the words so you can buy yourself some time. You'll come to mean them some day. He needs something to hold onto. Give him something to hold onto._

Elsa brought her arms gently down to her sides. She looked into his eyes, trying to tap into that strength Hans had referred to earlier. She wondered if she looked as scared as she felt.

"I forgive you, Hans."

Her whole body trembled as she spoke, knowing how much was at stake. Hans cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowing.

"Liar," he replied hoarsely, looking crestfallen.

"I…I'm not lying," she whispered earnestly. "I do. I forgive you."

Hans nodded, and she thought for one delusional second that he believed the lie this time. He closed his eyes and waved one of his hands limply in her direction. When he opened his eyes again, he stared past her. She turned, a flurry of snow temporarily blinding her. When it settled, her heart leapt to her throat and blood-red panic swelled and glowed across already ice-coated walls.

"What about him?" Hans asked.

Elsa gaped at the life-sized ice sculpture of Hans in his military great coat, sword held high over his head, a twisted grin on his face. Her back had been to him that day on the fjord. She remembered thinking it was a blessing that she hadn't seen his face seconds before he attempted to slaughter her. Elsa had wondered once or twice since then if she'd have still been able to fall in love with Hans had she been facing him that day, had seen the look in his eyes.

_No,_ she thought sorrowfully. _Never. I could never have fallen in love with that._

It was the hardest thing she ever had to admit to herself.

"Go ahead," Hans urged.

Elsa swayed where she stood, arms across her abdomen. She was sure she was only seconds away from throwing up, yet she found she couldn't look away from the ice sculpture.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice crackling in her throat.

"I'm trying to get you to see some sense. If you can still look me in the eye right now and tell me you forgive me, I'll stay for as long as you want me to."

Elsa shook her head. "You know I can't."

When she turned her attention back to Hans,_ her_ Hans, he was smiling sadly. She felt the freeze tightening painfully around her bones like barbed wire. She threw an arm out to the side, and the sculpture crumbled into a harmless pile of ice shavings.

"You also know I love you. You also know I'm queen of this country, and that I can do anything I want to do."

"All evidence points to the contrary," Hans cut in quietly. Elsa continued without pause despite the painful sting of truth to his words.

"And you also know that you're a prisoner of Arendelle," she said. "And that I can keep you here as long as I choose to."

The muscles in Hans' jaw visibly tightened. The mask he'd been wearing struck the floor between their feet with a thud and a crack. She'd finally managed to catch him off guard.

"You're not going anywhere, Prince Hans. I'm not letting you go, with or without my forgiveness. My heart may be yours, but my will is still my own."

Before Elsa could open the doors to leave, Hans called out, "You know, of course, that I'll be doing everything within my power to escape, no matter what or who gets in my way."

"Try it," Elsa replied coldly before slamming the doors behind her.

As she walked away, a flurry whirling around her foggy head and the aching ribs that vibrated with the excruciating thrumming of her heart, she whispered through clenched teeth, "Why can't you see that I'm doing this for your own good?"

She ignored the voice in her head that whispered back, "His good or yours?"


	32. Glass Harp

So.

Due to a weird flurry of activity relating to my real-life writing career where I try to put on the face of someone who knows what they're doing, this chapter is making a very, VERY late appearance. I hope you'll forgive me.

The chapter following this one will be mad indeed.

Thank you, as always, for your comments and readership (See? That sounds like something a real author would say, right? RIGHT?).

Lots of love,

ssg.x.

**CHAPTER 32  
**GLASS HARP

"Queen Elsa?"

"Hm?" Elsa grunted from beneath the pages of an open book.

"My lady?"

The book fell in her lap as she sat up. Gerda had brought her breakfast in on a cart this morning. Usually Elsa preferred eating breakfast downstairs with Anna before the palace's open house, but by now the entire staff had probably been informed that the queen was going to be resting up before tonight's big event.

Gerda had somehow managed to read her mind, so here she was at Elsa's bedside, pouring tea and removing the lids from plate after plate of food. She'd thought for sure she wouldn't have the appetite for breakfast, but she'd skipped dinner and she was angry.

Really, really angry.

"Good morning, my lady," Gerda said cheerily, lifting the tray from the cart and carefully placing it on her lap. Elsa tried to give the woman a smile, but she could taste its phoniness on her tongue. She needed something with jam on it.

Lots and lots of jam.

Gerda reached for the book Elsa had fallen asleep reading. Elsa's eyes widened.

"Wait, Gerda –"

"_The Bride of Lammermoor_."

Elsa winced, embarrassed. Ugh. Why couldn't it have been something work-related? The book had been another late-night attempt to take her mind off of her disastrous conversation with Hans a week ago.

Despite what he'd said about trying to escape, she hadn't heard a peep from or about him since that day. Had he been bluffing, or was he just waiting until he was sure she wouldn't be expecting him to break from his prison?

_His prison… _

Elsa gnawed at the corner of her mouth.

Gerda placed the book on Elsa's night table and gave her a knowing smile.

"I've read it," she said. "It's wonderful, isn't it? I couldn't stop turning the pages. I stayed up hours past my bedtime to finish it. I'm assuming it's in preparation for the performance this evening?"

Elsa blushed. "Yes. I should have started reading it ages ago. I've just been so preoccupied with…"

Gerda mercifully finished her sentence, smiling kindly. "Running a kingdom?"

"Yes," Elsa replied, mirroring her smile in appreciation.

"So the performance will be entirely in Italian?"

"Yes, but programs have been printed that include a synopsis of each of the three acts, so the audience won't be totally lost," Elsa explained.

As a gift from King Vittorio Emanuelle II to celebrate Elsa's coronation, an operatic troupe was putting on a performance that evening of a relatively new opera based on _The Bride of Lammermoor_ called _Lucia di Lammermoor _for the people of Arendelle. It had been organized months ago, so Elsa had almost all but forgotten about it. Despite her doubts that she'd be able to enjoy herself, news was that the townspeople were very excited about the performance, and their keenness to experience something new was infectious. Such an event was usually reserved for royalty and dignitaries, so this would be a rare treat. It would also be only the second time Elsa attended an opera, the first being with her parents when she was a young child and Anna was just a baby. Elsa couldn't remember too much about that evening except that her parents seemed positively enraptured by what was happening on stage, and the voice of the female lead was like that of a siren.

_A mermaid…_ little Elsa had whispered in awe, her eyes following the singer's long, black hair down the middle of her back.

When her mother tucked her in that night, she announced to her that she was going to be a singer when she grew up. Or a mermaid. Her mother had smiled and gently stroked her hair.

_But then who will be queen?_ she had asked.

_Why can't you keep doing it?_ Elsa replied, puzzled.

Her mother never ended up answering her question that night. Elsa was still far too young for that conversation.

"Princess Anna couldn't possibly be more thrilled about this evening. It's all she's been able to talk about," Gerda chuckled, slathering apricot jam on a slice of toast and handing it to Elsa. "Last night during dinner she outlined in the most minute detail exactly what she was going to wear, right down to the…"

Gerda's voice trailed off as Elsa looked away.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I didn't mean to – "

Elsa shook her head. "Don't apologize. I'm happy to hear Princess Anna is so excited."

_Though I'm sure I would have been happier if I'd heard it firsthand._

Whose fault is it that you didn't?

It wasn't like she and Anna weren't talking to each other – things were more or less back to normal. Well, no. A little less than more. They could talk so long as the topic of conversation didn't drift too far in Elsa's direction. When that started to happen, Elsa slowly began to disengage. Her life, her every thought, had become so intertwined with Hans that she felt as though she had no life or thought to speak of apart from him.

It was frustratingly pathetic.

"Speaking of which," Gerda chirped, laying Elsa's robe across the foot of the bed. "Have you already decided on what to wear? Is there anything you'd like me to bring out for you?"

Elsa shook her head. "No, thank you. I might…I might make something myself for this evening."

Gerda smiled brightly and clapped her hands together. "Oh, goodness! That would be wonderful! It's been some time since you've made something special for yourself."

"It's a special occasion, after all," Elsa said quietly.

"It truly is, my lady," Gerda agreed, looking positively starry-eyed as she crossed the room to pull the curtains aside and let in the daylight. "A good opera is like falling in love for the first time."

That piqued Elsa's interest in spite of herself. She knew Gerda was just talking for the sake of talking, but the older woman was the closest thing she had to a mother now, and Elsa needed some motherly advice so desperately just then. It seemed that instances like this were the closest she would be able to get to that.

"Like falling in love?" Elsa said around a mouthful of toast and jam. "How so?"

Gerda turned to her, looking surprised to find Elsa eager to engage in conversation. _It has been a while_, Elsa thought guiltily.

"Well," Gerda began carefully, not having expected the request to elaborate. "When the curtains open, you're somewhere you may never have found yourself otherwise. You wonder where you are, why you're there, who this person is, and what road he might lead you down. All your senses are heightened – everything is louder, heartbreak more harrowing, and drama direr." Gerda gazed dreamily out the massive window. "Love is illimitable and colours are brighter. And when he says, _I would die without you_, you believe it because you can't be sure what kind of a god, if any, rules this strange new world you're in, and you refuse to take such a chance with someone else's life. It scares you so much that you can't take your eyes off him, let alone your heart from him."

Elsa watched her breathlessly. _Yes,_ she thought. _Yes._

Gerda smiled. "When it's over…" she said, her eyes softening, her voice trailing off, and all of it coming to an ambiguous end with a shrug of her shoulders. "You'll fall in love one day, my lady. When you do, we'll revisit this metaphor, and you can tell me what a silly old woman I was."

Elsa giggled nervously and brought her cup of tea to her lips for a sip, but found it was frozen through. She looked down and realized the entire breakfast tray and all of its contents were dusted with snow.

"Oh," she said stupidly.

"I'll call for another pot of tea," Gerda said.

"No, it's alright," Elsa replied, letting her help set the tray aside so she could climb out of bed. "It's a special day for Arendelle, and I want to ensure everyone has a marvellous time. Please allow me a little time to dress and send word to have the court ready and waiting for my arrival. I'll be down there shortly."

"Yes, my lady."

Once she was alone again, Elsa sat at her vanity and briskly ran a brush through her hair, spinning and pinning it up into a simple bun. Then, with her hands in her lap, she stared at her reflection, thinking again of what Gerda had said.

_When he says, 'I would die without you', you believe it because you can't be sure what kind of a god, if any, rules this strange new world you're in, and you refuse to take such a chance with someone's life. _

Her gaze hardened and she pressed her lips together.

_I'm the ruler of this strange new world, and its prisoner, _she thought._ I'm Hades and Persephone. I could have set myself free, I could have woken up beside him every morning if I hadn't been such a coward. I could have had him, but I wouldn't let myself._

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut.

_And now he hates me. I'm sure he hates me._

And Anna…

Anna, who is capable of such boundless, unconditional love…

Would she have forgiven her? Elsa had believed all this time that because Anna had forgiven her once before, she'd be all out of forgiveness for her now. But, no – that isn't how forgiveness works, is it? If Elsa could forgive Hans, then maybe there was a chance Anna might be able to forgive him, too, someday.

_Wait…_

Elsa gasped, opening her eyes.

In an astonished whisper, she asked herself, "Did I just…?"


End file.
